Accio, Accio
by Katharin the Dragon
Summary: Hermione Granger unexpectedly meets up with Ron Weasley 23 year after the destruction of the death-eaters. Hermione is a writer and single mother, Ron is a teacher at Hogwarts, and far too much has been left unsaid between them. Is it too late? R/H
1. Prologue A Long Way From Home

Author's Notes: Greetings to you all! Having never been satisfied with the ending of this story, I am going to give it another go! Remember, I don't own the Harry Potterworld, and I am certainly not making any money off of fanfiction. In fact, most of my salary goes to buying Harry Pottery merchandise. Love to you all, especially other grown up girls who love this magical world!

  
  
**Prologue** : _A Long Way From Home_

_"Mia?"_

_Mia_, she thought a tad wistfully, a little confused._ No one's called me that since... well, since... you know, I never liked it when you called me that, anyway. My name is Hermione._ But the slight fluttering in her stomach betrayed her. She murmured something and turned over, hugging the pillow against her.

Hermione's dingy flat was crowded with bookcases in every room from kitchen to bathroom and each bookcase was full to bursting. Books were piled on the floor and in milk crates. Seven leather-bound hardback books were lined up on her nighstand in special honor.

A identical blip on the inside jacket of each cover seemed to tell the story of the woman in the bed beside them. _40 years old, America's most successful witch, Hermione Granger has earned every accolade and every honor attributed to her. After graduating with honors from Onicoeur University, with a double major in Muggle Studies and Arithmancy, she was awarded her Doctorate in Magic-Muggle Relations. She has worked in the British Ministry of Magic, under Arthur Weasley. She has two children, twins, both daughters: Guinevere, called Ginny, and Elizabeth, called Beth. She currently lives in Salem with her feline familiar, Crookshanks._

Hermione had the biography memorized, but was amused by it's half-truths and glossed-over history.

After working for the Ministry awhile, Hermione had ideas of her own. If her muggle parents had so readily accepted magic, why couldn't other muggles as well? She had quickly grown tired of raiding for artifacts and covering up after magic mistakes. People were people, she believed, and it wasn't right to segregate the muggles from wizards and witches. As always, Hermione Granger wanted to make an impact. 

With Harry's help, she had started a small newspaper which quickly grew in circulation. W.A.S.P. they had called it - Wizards Against Segregrating People. For about five years she soared on the winds of fame - it was the craze to wear a blinking WASP button, and her supporters quickly adapted their own version of the peace sign. WASP supporters needed only to hold up three fingers to form a "W", and they would be recognized. It was, she reflected with a sigh, one of the greatest times of her life - a much needed relief after the darkness of her grade school years.

But like any craze, WASP didn't last long. At 26 Hermione decided to put her education to good use. It seemed the wizarding world wasn't going to change because of her. She took off for America to try and educate the witches and wizards of the 'new world'. Harry stayed behind. England was his home, and he had other ideas on how to change the world.

The first two years she lived in relative poverty. Ginny and Beth were actually attending a muggle school for some time. A professor at Salem took pity on them and gave them a drastically reduced tuition in return for Hermione's help with grading essays and overseeing third years in their potion lessons.

Finally, on her 28th birthday, Hermione had an inspiration. It was brilliant. It was barely legal. But it would pay the bills. "If I want to say something that is too difficult for adults to accept," Hermione had been advised by a famous American author, "I put it in a children's story." 

Finding a publisher had been hard at first. Editors didn't think the book would do well in America, where Muggle children seemed to prefer Ninja Turtles to centaurs. Finally, she sent it with a nom de plume across the Atlantic. It was a brilliant success, and quickly spread across the globe so that she couldn't leave the house without seeing her own work. The editors had been wrong about the turtles, it seemed. "Harry Potter and the School of Magic" was Hermione's second craze. 

She had expected a severe reprimanding from the Ministry at best. Instead, the books were widely read in the wizarding world, and Hermione's name shot once again to fame. The Minister of Magic himself flew out to visit her and congratulate her. She was awarded the Order of Merlin, second class, for bringing Muggles and magic one step closer together.

_Hermione Granger_, the presentation read,_ has brought the world of magic one step closer to Muggles. She has laid the groundwork for a successful reunion of worlds. As more and more Muggles are made aware of our presence through the neutral ground of children's literature, the world is becoming safer and safer for us. Today, our celebrities are Muggle legends. Perhaps tomorrow our brothers can be Muggle friends._

Frankly, such success meant only one thing to Hermione - being able to support Ginny and Beth. The congratulations of a certain scroll sent by Owl Post, sent by a certain red-headed young man, she assured herself, meant absolutely nothing, and she certainly wasn't going to dignify it with a reply.

She had been offered a reinstatement at the Ministry - head of the new department created in her honor, Wizard/Muggle Relations, but had declined the offer. Beth and Ginny were getting ready to graduate from Salem, and she wasn't about to uproot them. She was strongly loyal to the school that had supported her children through such hard times. 

But now her twins had graduated and gone on to University. She missed them deeply. _"I'm tired of being alone,"_ she thought sleepily. She would never have admitted it when fully awake. She was strong and proud, always putting her ambitions ahead of feelings, always making decisions for her self. 

The books biography was amusing, leaving out so many details of her professional life, but Hermione was equally amused by the half-truths her own mind could come up with, and her ability to think over her entire adult life without once thinking of him. Regardless, his spirit was present in every detail.

Tomorrow she was leaving for England, to visit the girls for Christmas at Oniceur University. She turned over again and squeezed the locket she wore around her neck with her daughters picture inside. She could picture them vividly in her head - quiet Ginny with her dark frizzy hair and sweet blue eyes, and Beth with her piercing brown eyes and wicked laugh...

_"Mia_," the voice in her head was more insistent this time. _"Mia, don't go..." _But Hermione was almost asleep, slowly fading...

Ginny, with her pretty blue eyes... and Beth with her wild red curls...


	2. Free Will

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
**Chapter One**: _Free Will_

A shy little first year scuttled into class. Her robes were awry, her hair was in tangles, and her books were about to fall out of her arms, but her eyes were bright and intelligent. She slid into her seat and looked around anxiously, as though hoping no one had seen her.   


Her professor chuckled softly - little Nena Tanner was the best student of her year, but she was always in a flurry. Disorganized to an extreme. Never dressed quite right. Not very popular, either, he thought sadly. He cleared his throat as though impatient and frowned across the room at her. "You're late, Miss Tanner. Ten points from Gryffindor-"   


Her lips trembled pitifully.   


"-Unless you can tell me what spell you should use to get to class faster next time."   


There was a gentle rumble of amusement across the class. Even a first year knew the Charms professor's bias towards Gryffindors - here was yet another example. Nena was at the top of Charms, Potions, History - everything but Care of Magical Creatures came naturally to her.   


Nena swallowed nervously. "Well, hypothetically, professor, I could use a Hastum charm on myself to simply enable me to move faster. If I were licensed, and if Hogwarts wasn't shielded from such activities, I could simply Apparate. I suppose there must be some way of enchanting a map so that it could show me a clear path to class, but I don't know a specific spell for it, I imagine it would be quiet complicated.. um, there are a number of other possibilities, of course..." she trailed off.   


"Excellent, Nena-"   


"Um, Professor, I want you to understand that those possibilities are completely hypothetical. I'm well aware of the restriction on magic between classes," she stammered.   


He chuckled. "I know, Nena. I appreciate your respect for the rules."   


There was a snicker from the back row. A Slytherin with long blonde hair and the attention of most of her class was whispering conspiratorially with her cronies.   


"Does the back of the classroom have something to contribute?"   


"Yes, Professor. Well, actually, another one of those _possibilities_. Since Nena always has such a hard time finding her way to class, I was thinking you could just draw her to class every day." Lucinda raised her wand arm lazily and pointed it at Nena's untidy stack of books. "_Accio scroll_," she murmured. Nena's homework shot towards Lucinda and landed in her left hand. Smatterings of applause rang from Lucinda's Slytherin entourage.   


The Professor ran his fingers through his thick red hair and sighed. "Very impressive, Miss Malfoy. Please return Miss Tanner's homework. I had intended to go over Wingardium Leviosa once again today, but I see that we have a very basic lack of understanding here. Let's discuss Accio a bit, shall we? Who can tell me what Accio is?"   


Several hands shot up. He called on Tim Totter, a lanky Hufflepuff in the front row. "It's a summoning charm, Professor."   


"Right. Can anyone besides Miss Malfoy demonstrate Accio? This is not a test, Accio is not something I'll be teaching you for a bit. I'm just curious."   


Several of the students were able to - mostly those who had big brothers and sisters in other years. Tim, for example, was able to summon an eraser to his desk. Nena summoned back her scroll. Lucinda, eager to impress, summoned a photograph of her older brother all the way from her room. More applause ensued.   


"Amazing, Miss Malfoy. Now I want you to try something. Up for a challenge?"   


She grinned. "Absolutely."   


"Right. Summon me."   


"Professor?"   


"Summon me. Your idea was for me to summon Miss Tanner, yes? So summon me.'   


She raised her wand tentatively. "_Accio Professor Weasely_," she said firmly.   


Nothing. He didn't budge. Her face plainly showed that she hadn't expected him to.   


"You see the results. The question is, why? Why can Miss Malfoy move an item she can't even see, but not me?" The question was addressed to the whole room.   


Nena frowned thoughtfully. "Is it your weight, professor? Is Accio restricted only to smaller items?"   


"Good guess. Test it. Try to move my desk."   


"_Accio desk._"   


It didn't go very far, but it did tremble and creep forward a few inches. Nena's eyes widened in surprise and dropped her wand. The desk came to a halt. Unfortunately, the professor had been drinking coffee (a deplorable muggle habit he had picked up on a mission years before), and his mug had been resting on the edge of the desk. It teetered precariously on the edge of the desk, then clattered to the floor with the loud sound of shattering ceramic.   


The class erupted into laughter. Nena blushed furiously, a red glow reaching all the way to the tips of her ears. "It's not your fault, Miss Tanner," Professor Weasely reassured her. "My fault for not thinking of my coffee. You had a good command of the spell. On that note, class is dismissed."   


The young wizards and witches poured noisily out of the room, the sound of laughter fading as they headed for their next class. He set about cleaning up his cup - muggle cleaning, no magic in between classes. The rule was a hard habit to break for an old student.   


"Professor?"   


He looked up in surprise. "Nena, you're still here?"   


"I'm sorry, Professor." She was still blushing. "I just wanted to know the answer to the question. Why wasn't Lucinda able to summon you?"   


He smiled a little and shrugged. "It wasn't because she wasn't trying, and it wasn't because she didn't control the spell well."   


"It wasn't the weight, either," she prompted.   


"Right," he agreed. "So, what's the reason we can never keep another human being with us, or summon them to us, or cause them to obey our will, without venturing into the dark arts?"   


Nena thought hard a moment. "You're talking about more than magic, I think professor."   


He chuckled. "Perceptive, Miss Tanner."   


"Are you going to tell me?"   


He smiled. Her persistent search for knowledge was the strongest he had seen since Hermione. He couldn't help admiring the little first year. "Free will," he whispered.   


She nodded, as though she understood, and slipped away. 


	3. Breakfast at Hogwarts

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
**Chapter Two:**_ Breakfast at Hogwarts_   


Breakfast at Hogwarts was noisy, colorful, and insistently cheerful. You could try to be gloomy, but unless you were Severus Snape, you wouldn't often succeed. Certainly Ronald Weasley could not be gloomy with a spread of french toast and fried eggs in front of him. He ate greedily, the noises of laughing students and the verbal duels of the staff washing away the lingering buzz of the hospital wing and the waning roar of his nightmare.

  


He looked down the table at his colleagues. It was reassuring to see them lined up at the table, just as they had been for the past ten years. The only one notably missing was Dumbledore.

  


Albus Dumbledore was headmaster in name only now. His heart was the same as it had ever, kind, but just; understanding, but firm. But there were those who thought his time was well past. He never seemed to be all there. The humorous eccentricity that Ron remembered had degenerated into a lovable senility. Most of Dumbledore's duties had been passed on to Severus Snape.

  


Snape was still Snape. Administrative duties left him little time for teaching now, so he taught only a few advanced classes - a prep class centered around "Most Potente Potions", heavily restricted, and a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts course for seventh years only. Despite Snape's prickly personality, the seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts class was one of the most popular that Hogwart's offered. It had become something of a tradition among the seventh years to try and pry stories out of Snape - stories about the dark war at Hogwarts.

  


He became someone else then. The insults, the barbs, they fell away. He became the hero of a war for good. He would show them his dark mark, tell them how it seared both his flesh and his soul. He was there when Voldemort died, he would tell them. He had witnessed the exact moment when the balance of the world's power shifted from darkness to light.

  


Of course, these moments did not last long, and he was back to being the greasy git that Ron remembered from his own youth. Ron shook his head, glancing sideways at the aging professor.

  


Snape caught his eye and frowned. "What are you looking at, Weasely? If you're waiting for me to push my plate away so you can finish it for me, you're out of luck. I'm quite hungry."

  


Ron laughed softly, "Oh, come off it, Snape. I'm not one of your students. Heckle me all you want, we're still going to _cream_ you at Quidditch this year.

  


"Oh, I don't think so, Mr. Weasely. Slytherin's team is far superior this year, I'm afraid." He nodded towards the students at the Slytherin table. "Have you seen our new seeker?"

  


Ron frowned. "I'm still not in agreement, to be honest with you. Lucinda is quite bright, and she's an amazing seeker, but it's been a long time since a first year has been on the Quidditch team. I'm not sure it's wise."

  


Snape laughed out loud. "Amusing, but rather hypocritical, Weasley. The last time a first year was on the Quidditch team was your mate, Harry P-"

  


"I'm sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but..." It was Miss Pomfrey - daughter of Madame Pomfrey. She had taken over the hospital wing when her mother passed on, almost five years years ago. She and Ron had dated discreetly for a few months, but work had come between them.

  


"It's okay, Polly. What's wrong?"

  


"It's Dumbledore, Ron. I don't think he's going to last the night. He's just had another attack."

  


Severus stood up quickly. "Excuse me," he said roughly. He pushed his chair back in and rushed to the hospital ward.

  


"It's going to be harder on him than any of us," Ron said with a sigh. "Dumbledore was the only one who ever believed in him-"

  


"Please, I don't want to talk about it. I've been taking care of the old man for two months now. I need a break."

  


Ron bristled and turned away. "Uh - sorry, Polly. I guess you can't understand what he meant to those of us who were his students. I have something to do, excuse me."

  


"I was hoping you'd have dinner with me tonight, maybe," she continued quickly. "Um, I actually need some help with an Eros charm I've been working on..." she trailed off, smiling hopefully.

  


He shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, Polly, but I really, honestly have some things I need to do. There are a couple of people who need to be here if Dumbledore is.. if.. you know." He swallowed and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Maybe another time, okay, love?"

  


Polly smiled sadly. "Okay, Ron. I understand."

  


She didn't, and he knew that.

  
  


Contacting Harry was easy. Not a day went by when those two weren't in contact in some way or another. In just a couple of minutes, Harry's face was peering out from the flames of Ron's private fireplace.

  


Harry straightened his glasses. "Ron, I hope this is important. I was, um, in the middle of something."

  


Ron chuckled knowingly, "How's my little sister?"

  


Harry shrugged and grinned widely. "Healthy! Er, the baby's healthy, I mean. Twelve weeks along, now."

  


"I know, you great toadstool. You told me yesterday, and last week, and earlier this morning."

  


"Er, Ron, what's wrong?"

  


"Dumbledore's... Polly says he's not going to last the day, Harry."

  


Harry's face froze. "I'll be right over."

  


Ron nodded. With a shower of sparks, Harry's face disappeared.

  


"Now for the hard part," he muttered to himself. "Hermione."

  


He frowned and pulled out a tiny scroll. He scribbled something down quickly, trying not to think about what he was doing. He called upon his fastest owl and attached the little note to her claw. _"Hastum, hastimus, hastissimus,"_ he murmured, beckoning her to fly faster than she had ever flown.

  


Bellatina was the owl's name. She was tiny and beautiful, and at the moment, had everything on her mind besides delivering messages. But she loved her red-headed master instinctively, and when his quickening charm entered her body, she let the love of flight overwhelm her.

  


Owls have some small magic of their own, but their first talent is communication. The first thing Bellatina did when set loose was find a small pack of sparrows, gossiping on a telephone wire. They recognized the owl immediately and knew what she was after.

  


"Who?" asked one of the sparrows brusquely.

  


"Hermione Granger."

  


One of the younger sparrows chirped up. "She's a yank. Don't live here. Ask one of them 'Merican robins."

  


One of the older sparrows shook his head and whistled softly. "Nah, that's not quite right. She used to live here. She was an 'Ogwarts girl, if I remembers right. Head girl, right Sammy?"

  


"Right, George. Good old 'Mione. Seems to me her chicks are going to school back here."

  


"Whose her chicks?"

  


"Elizabeth and Guinevere Granger," crooned the older sparrow. "Very romantic names, perhaps a little too-"

  


"Oy! I knows them! They goes to Oniceur! Sweet little girls." piped up the little one."

  


Bellatina did not waste a moment. She zipped away. It was ten minutes flight - as the owl flies - but with her hastum charge still lingering, she made much better time. She took a certain pride in that.

  


She landed on the north turret of imposing Oniceur. She was greeted by a matronly pigeon picking at crumbs. "How can I help ya, dear?"

  


"I'm looking for a Hermione Granger. I was told her chicks go to university here?"

  


"Aye, they do, dear. But if you're looking for Beth and Ginny's mother you're in good luck. She's here, visiting them for the Christ child's birthday."

  


Bellatina couldn't believe her luck. She got directions from the pigeon and found her way to the dorm room of the Granger twins.

  


There were three humans in there. One was older, with bushy brown hair and a few streaks of silver. There were weather lines in her face. The younger ones were as different as night and day. The louder one had long, curly red hair and warm brown eyes. The quiet one had thick brown hair like her mother and seemed to be listening intently. Bellatina almost hated to interrupt them to bring whatever news had her master so upset.

  


She lighted gently on the window ledge and waited. As she guessed, it was the quiet one who saw her first. She stepped over to the window and held out her finger. She untied the little scroll. "Mum, it's for you!" she said in surprise.

  


Hermione took the scroll from her daughter and unrolled it carefully. Her face went pale.

  


_Mia, Dumbledore's dying. I hate to say it so plainly, but I would like you to come to Hogwarts right away. For his sake, I mean. If theres anyway you can get here today, please do. Ron_

  


Hermione kissed each of her daughters. "Sorry to leave so quickly, dears, but my headmaster is dying. I have to go to Hogwarts. I'll be back soon, I promise."

  


"Can't we come, mum?" asked Beth. "We've always wanted to see Hogwarts."

  


"No! I mean... I'd rather you stay here for now. I'll take you on a tour another time."

  


Ginny ran her fingers through her bushy brown hair and frowned.

  
  
  
**Author's Notes:** Thanks to Circinius for being my first review! I was so excited when I saw it. You made my day!  
Lyansidde - I love Nena, too. She came into the story by accident, but she made quite an impression on me. I promise to try and answer every question I make you ask.   
Devonny - Dontcha just love FLUFF? :)   
Ginny - Thank you, I am trying very hard to stay in character, because it is character that makes me love these imaginary people so.   
LanaMariah - thank you for giving me a comment that I have to live up to :)  
Circinius - heh, you're jumping ahead! You see right through me! Thanks :)  
Eleanor - Thanks. I can't wait to right more.  
Lost Dove - Thanks, I like to surprise you!  
Bessyboo - you've made my day, darling. I live to be interesting ;)  



	4. Fall of the Phoenix

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
**Chapter Three**:_ The Fall of the Phoenix_  
  
  


_"Accio toffee... Accio toffee... _been calling for toffee for a bloody hour..."

  


Hermione laughed softly, "Good to see you too, Headmaster. How did you know I was bringing you a toffee?"

  


"You'll note, Miss Granger, that the greatest wizards can perform many magical feats without ever using words," Dumbledore croaked. His face was flushed; he was feverish.

  


"Hush, now, Albus, don't talk. Miss Pomfrey says you're to rest. You're overheated." She took the cloth she was given and wiped the old man's head. How old was he now? He must have already passed a hundred.

  


"Finest... example, of course... Snape's potions. But that's not what I'm talking about..."

  


"Albus, please..." Hermione floundered. She felt so helpless, sitting next to death.

  


She smelled him approaching before she saw him. Tangy and sharp, like pine, a strong, male scent that had a physical effect on her. A large hand rested on her shoulder. "It's okay, Mia, let him talk. It's all that he has left now."

  


The aged headmaster's face convulsed in what must have been a smile. "That's what you think, Ronald Weasley. Have some... magic in me left, boy. Watch." He uncurled his right hand. Two toffees, unwrapped lay in his palm.

  


Hermione gasped and checked her pouch. Sure enough, the toffee her daughters had given her to bring the headmaster were gone.

  


Dumbledore chuckled. "Mindspells, Hermione. When you've performed a certain spell as many times as I have, well... you simply don't need the words anymore..." He shuddered and grew suddenly sober. "Ron, where is Severus?"

  


"Fetching Harry Potter, sir. He's just arrived by Hogwarts Express. They sent me ahead - "

  


Dumbledore nodded. "Please go and get him...I have only a few minutes..."

  


Ron grew pale and ran out of the room. Hermione could not supress a sob. She squeezed Dumbledore's hand.

  


"Don't cry, Hermione...time for me to... finally rest. Something I was... trying to tell you... what was it?"

  


Hermione snuffled and wiped her eyes. "Something about - mindspells, was it, sir?"

  


"No, no...another... years and you'll be doing those anyway...wanted to tell you about..." His voice trailed off.

  


"About?" she prompted.

  


"...heartspells..." He rasped and shook his head. "sorry...library...right...?" he smiled up weakly at her.

  


Hermione smiled bravely through the tears streaming down her face. "I'll look them up for you sir, I promise. I promise."

  


At that moment the doors to the hospital wing burst open. Severus Snape, Ronald Weasley, Polly Pomfrey, and was that - yes, Harry Potter, too - all ran into the room. Harry and Ron both moved to comfort her. Harry engulfed her in the bear hug of a long-lost best friend. She sobbed into his shoulder. Ron moved awkwardly to the side. Polly moved towards him and put both her hands on his shoulders, moving to draw him close, but he didn't cooperate, just stood there stiffly.

  


But for anyone who cared to look, the saddest sight of all was the huddled figure kneeling by the bed, his body racked with sobs. Both hands were on the chest of the dying headmaster, as though willing the old heart to keep beating. His greasy salt-and-pepper hair obscured his face. He knelt there for moments that turned into hours. Eventually, even his sobs died.

**********************

  
  
_ interlude:   
When you died, my world went dark,   
In need of flame, I had no spark.   
I cried out to you; you did not hear.   
O, kind voice absent from my ear.   
-   
  
When you died, my sun was gone-   
Blackest night replacing dawn.   
My dazzling world, so full of light   
Plunged into empty, changeless night.   
-   
  
A friend is lost- an empty hole   
Rests in the place you called my soul.   
As you died, so died my heart.   
What once was one is now apart.   
_


	5. The Looking Back Looking Glass

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
**Chapter Four**:_ The Looking Back Looking Glass_  
  
  


"But what a horrible way to finally get to see her again. I mean, it's really bloody awful. You've no idea how many different ways I planned to run into her, or to talk her into coming back, or for her to come back and throw herself at me - god, do you realize how long it's been? Do you realize?"

  


"Woah, slow down there, mate. Do you? It's been almost twenty years." Harry shook his head. "Don't rush ahead of yourself. You don't know-" He smiled. "I haven't seen you look this excited since..."

  


"Since Hermione left," Ron finished. "Do you think I should ask her to dinner? Do you think she'd say yes? Bloody hell, Harry, I don't know what to do." He sighed. Suddenly his eyes lit up. "I know! Have Ginny invite her over for tea or something, and then I can sort of show up."

  


Harry threw up his arms in exasperation. "It's like school all over again!"

  


Ron grinned. "Does that mean you'll do it?"

  
  
  


Hermione was morbid to say the least. Beth had been talking to her mother for fifteen minutes without taking a breath, but Ginny was picking up on her mother's distress. She sensed that her mother had much to say, but no one to say it to. She laid her head on her mother's shoulder. Hermione wrapped her arm around her daughter's waist.

  


"Right, Ginny?"

  


Ginny nodded. "And Beth's taken the top of every class she's in-"

  


"Except for Arithmancy, but only because I have to compete with my _sweet_ sister in that," Beth grinned.   


Hermione glowed. "I love Arithmancy," she said. "Is your professor a wizard or a witch?"

  


"A wizard-" said Ginny.

  


"-And he's a dream," added Beth. "Um, something's wrong, isn't it, mum? Are you still upset about your headmaster? Not that there would be anything wrong with that, we've heard he was a dear, haven't we, Ginny?"

  


"We have. But there's something else, too, isn't there, mum? Is it something about going back to your old school, maybe?"

  


"Ooh, I'll bet mum ran into an old romance, didn't you, mum? Some boy you used to run around snogging after hours, is that right?"

  


Hermione laughed. "When I was in school, I had very little time for snogging. I was very busy with my studies. I was Head Girl, you know."

  


"Did you have _any_ boyfriends when you were in school, mum?" Ginny asked. 

"Well, actually-"

  


"Oy, I need to do my makeup,I've a date tonight, mum. Wanna help? Let's take this 'truth-or-dare' fest into the bathroom," suggested Beth with a grin.

  


Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes, "Please, no 'truth or dare'! I never should have let you go to that muggle school. But I don't want to get in the way of your dates."   


They moved to the bathroom. The bathrooms at Oniceur were grander than Hermione expected. The floors were black and white checked tile, and warmed or cooled on command. There were large, elegant bath tubs sunk into the floor four feet deep that could carry three or four girls at once. Several girls were clustered in one of the far tubs - obviously this was the hub of Oniceur gossip. Against one wall were several pedestal sinks with round vanity mirrors.

  


One of the girls ran up to them. "Wow, you must be Beth and Ginny's mum! Would you sign my Harry Potter book, please? I'm such a fan!" The peaceful scene dissolved into a book signing fest.

  
  
  


Later that night, Beth was out with some young man named Aaron - an eager to impress student of muggle studies. He had been very impressed by meeting Hermione, and quizzed her about muggles, about the WASP movement, and about America. Hermione had answered all his questions with patience and enthusiasm, then cast her blessings (literally) on their date. She and Ginny were holed up in the dorm room, talking about 'boys'.

  


"...so then in fourth year, I actually had my first kiss. This boy named Derek Blondtree. He was really sweet, mum, do you remember him?"

  


The dorm rooms at Oniceur were warm and cozy. Ginny and Beth shared with two other girls, but they had gone home for the holiday. The walls and floors were stone, like Hogwarts, but the walls were richly draped with blue and gold velvet tapestries, adorned with a unicorn. A set of bunkbeds were pushed against each side wall, with an enormous bear rug in between them. The back wall was lined with cherry roll-top desks, two on each side of a grand fireplace. A fire roared, warming the chilly room. Hermione and her brown-haired daughter were curled up on the rug.

  


"I do, but I had no idea you liked him. Whatever happened to him?"

  


"Well, he moved away in fifth year. We sent owls back and forth for a couple of months, but there didn't seem to be much to say after that. He actually transferred to Hogwarts."

  


"His family moved?" Hermione asked. She rubbed the dark brown fur of the rug with her fingers. The rug growled appreciatively and winked one sleepy brown eye.

  


"No, he wanted to study charms, you see, and Hogwarts' charms professor was supposed to be really good. Professor Weasel, I think. Was he your professor, too, mum?" She seemed to be asking pointed questions.

  


"Ahhh... no, I'm afraid not. Ron Weasley was a student when I was at Hogwarts. He- was in my year, actually." Hermione said softly.

  


"He was a friend of yours, right? You and Harry Potter, too, right, mum?" Ginny prompted gently.

  


Hermione looked up in surprise. "How did you know?"

  


Ginny stood up and went over to her desk. She pulled a slim black box, about the size of a lap desk, out of one of the drawers and carried it over to her mother. She sat down on the rug, indian style, and lay it on her legs. She pointed her wand at the box. "_Alohamora!_" she muttered. The box sprang open. She picked out a photograph and handed it to her mother.

  


Hermione looked the picture over. It was she, Ron, and Harry in their seventh year. She was barely smiling in the picture, but nodding demurely out at herself - looking brave, but tired. Ron was standing next to her with one arm wrapped around her waist. He wasn't looking forward, he was looking at the girl standing next to him - herself. He wasn't smiling, but his lips with moving as though he were saying something. Harry was holding his prized broom stick - the Firebolt IV - and smoothing it with his fingers.

  


"Where did you get this?" Hermione asked softly.   


"I found it when I was little. Um, it sounds stupid but I actually thought it was me, all grown up. When I got older I realized it was you - and I figured out from your books who Harry Potter was. The other guy, well - his sweater has an "R" on it... me and Beth just recently saw a picture of Professor Weasley in the paper and I put two and two together..." She trailed off casually, waiting for her mother to tell her the whole story.

  


Hermione took a deep breath. "Well... we did go out. In seventh. Truth be told, we were madly in love," she admitted with a laugh. "We fought like a pair of dragons, but secretly adored each other. When the Yule Ball came around Ron decided he wasn't go to let anyone ask me - though he was secretly dying to ask me himself. I didn't find out for awhile - I guess Neville was going to ask me, but Ron threatened him with some sort of accident-inducing charm." She laughed. "Neville came to me to try and remove it. There wasn't any charm, of course, but I was furious with Ron.

  


Ginny chuckled softly, "So what did you do?"

  


Hermione blushed. "I hate to admit it. I really wanted to go with him. But I was furious, so I asked Neville to go with me instead..."

  
  
  


"...stunning. She looked incredible. Her hair was up in a bun, with a few loose ends dangling teasingly over her face. Her eyes were warm and sort of sparkly. She was wearing this _extremely_ formal dress, the color of cranberries. It was one of those that doesn't have sleeves, but sort of drapes arund her shoulders. Beautiful," he finished. 

  


Ginny laughed. "I remember, Ron, I was there. With Harry," she added, smiling fondly at her husband.

  


"Looking quite beautiful yourself," Harry said seriously.

  


"Stop," she said, smiling brilliantly, her tone undermining her words. "Tell your story, Ron, it's been such a long time. I love remembering it." A golden egg timer rang like a tiny bell. "Oh, the tea's ready, hold on."

  


Harry and Ron sat across from each other in the kitchenette in Ron's flat. The friends were sticking close together, taking comfort in each other's company. They were thinking, but not talking about the death of their beloved headmaster. The funeral was over.

  


The floors in Ron's flat were a dingy gold linoleum, and the walls were white and bare, but the room was full of things Ron had found 'interesting'over the years. There was a tall pine bookcase lined with spell books and Quidditch manuals. An ornate looking glass hung on the wall above the table - ocassionally a face would peer through that could not be seen in the real room. A silver-plate wizard chess game with pieces shaped like magical creatures - dragons, hippogriffs, even pixie pawns - sat on a corner table. A grizzled old Labrador with intelligent brown eyes lay docily below the table, listening intently. 

  


Ginny brought the tea tray in and set in between her husband and friend. She poured the tea into cups. "Sugar?" she offered.

  


"Please," said Harry. The little sugar bowl trotted over to Harry's cup and enthusiastically dished out a generous helping of sugar. He grinned. "Where on earth did you get the sugar bowl?"

  


Ginny and Ron both laughed. "It was Dad's," Ginny explained. "He gave it to Ron when Ron got his own flat. Passed down through generations of wizards," she laughed. "It ought to have ben confiscated as an enchanted muggle artifact years ago, but some say it dates all the way back to Merlin, so we have a special exemption." 

  


An aged face with a long, white, tangled beard and a tall purple hat appeared briefly in the looking glass, gave them the raspberry, and moved on. The face was replaced by an image of Ron, age 17, looking impatient.

  


"The mirror's going funny again, Ron," Harry said curiously.

  


"Don't mind it. It's a Looking Back Looking Glass. Old McGonagall left it to me in her will. If you start talking about the past, certain impressions will appear in the glass - looking as though they were with you. Not much use, but it's a lot of fun."

  


"So Hermione went to the ball with Neville and you went by yourself, right?" Ginny asked.

  


"Right. Had to swallow my pride if I wanted to go at all. Word had gotten around about how I threatened Neville, so no girl would have me. Hermione was looking incredible, as I already mentioned, but also she was lit up from inside," here he grinned, "-I think being fought over agreed with her greatly. Almost everyone danced with her, but I sort of skulked over by the punch bowl. Finally, I got up the courage and asked her to dance. I thought for sure she'd say no. But she didn't..." he smiled. He sighed happily and didn't seem to have anything else to say.

  


Ginny looked over at the mirror. There were two figures there now, slow dancing to some old song of the past. His hand was resting on her back - her head was resting on his shoulder.


	6. A Reunion of Sorts

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
**Chapter Five**:_ A Reunion of Sorts_  
  
  
_I'm not the sort of person  
who falls  
in and quickly out of love...  
but to you I gave my affection  
right from the start...  
_   
  


"...what Ron probably didn't realize was that I had threatened all the girls just as badly, and they all knew very well that I had the ability to follow through." She grinned at her daughter. "I probably would have, too. I was fiercely territorial."   


"Believe it or not, I am, too, mum," Ginny chuckled knowingly. "If Aaron doesn't bring my little sister home soon, I'm going to go territorial on _him_. It's late."

  


"Do you have a boyfriend?" Hermione asked curiously.

  


"No. I have a close friend who I'm completely sure is interested, but I'm purposely warding him off. I'm not ready for that kind of pressure yet. Er - physical pressure, you know?"

  


"Are you scared of... that sort of thing?" Hermione asked cautiously.

  


"You mean sex?" Ginny asked.

  


Hermione nodded.

  


"No, I'm not. I'm ready for it, physically, maybe more than ready," Ginny said frankly, "but when I do, it'll be forever. And I'm not ready for forever yet."

  


_"I love you forever, Mia..." he whispered, gently touching his lips to hers._

  


_Her body responded to his kiss, but her heart shrank at his words. "Ron, I'm just... not ready for forever yet..."_

  


Hermione closed her eyes.

  
  
  


Severus Snape and Ronald Weasley were undergoing the emotionally strenuous task of cleaning out Dumbledore's office. Had death not overshadowed the afternoon, it could have been enjoyable. Dumbledore had left an extensive will, at least one item to each of the hundreds of students that attended Hogwarts, and several to each of the staff members. Dumbledore had left Ron an autographed picture of Viktor Krum (the old headmaster was not without an ironic sense of humor) and something called the Pensieve. Ron wasn't sure what it was, but remembered Harry mentioning it sometime in their grade school years.

  


Severus Snape was the recipient of two things also - a large portion of Dumbledore's library, and Dumbledore's loyal phoenix Fawkes. The brightly-colored bird was obviously in mourning. His feathers were bedraggled and drooping, and he was crooning softly. He seemed to be crying the tears Snape would no longer allow himself to cry.

  


Ron had animal companionship as well. He had brought his dog along. Gladiator was his name, and he was a giant black labrador, with a huge grizzled muzzle and large, unwieldy paws. Gladiator was intelligent and fast. As Ron and Severus sorted through the items and matched them up with who they belonged to, Gladiator was sent to fetch the appropriate person.

  


"To Lucinda Malfoy, I leave the class yearbook of... ah, I think that's the year her father graduated... and my memoirs from the Dark War at Hogwarts..." Snape was muttering. "Have those right here... send your dog to fetch her, would you, Weasley?"

  


"Gladiator, fetch Lucinda Malfoy, please," muttered Ron, also absent-mindedly reading off an enormously long parchment.

  


He barked softly in assent, then galloped off towards the Slytherin common room. When he reached the portrait hole, he gave one short bark and sat down on his haunches.

  


A barefoot wizard in a forest glade, gathering ingredients, was pictured in the portrait guarding the entrance to the Slytherin common room. He smiled down at Gladiator. "Good doggy," he croaked.

  


Then the portrait swung open and a little head poked out. "Yes?"

  


Gladiator pushed past the little one and glanced around the common room. He spotted Lucinda Malfoy and trotted up to her. He nuzzled her knee.

  


She reached down and rubbed his head. "My turn, eh, pup? Alright." One of her cronies moved to follow her, but she brushed past them. "I want to go alone."

  


She followed Gladiator past the portrait hole, up several flights of stairs and down another, on through countless crooked corridors. Finally they reached a door blocked by a great stone gargoyle. Gladiator barked again and was allowed entrance. Lucinda followed closely until they reached Dumbledore's office.

  


Professors Snape and Weasley were waiting for her. "Hello, Miss Malfoy, thanks for coming so quickly," Professor Weasley said with a gentle smile.

  


Snape looked up at her and cleared his throat. "There was much debate after the war, as to whether we should allow the children of the death eaters to attend," he said quickly. "There was fear in many people's hearts, and remnants of hatred. Anyone with any connection to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was looked upon with suspicion, even derision - even those of us who served bravely in the war." He looked at Lucinda intensely.

  


"But Dumbledore always looked at individual people and judged them for who they were, not for who their parents were, or for waht they had done in the past. When your father was released from Azkaban just before his death, there was no place he could have gone. Friends had abandoned him, no one would hire him, and even your brother Draco would not allow him in his house. But Dumbledore took him in and gave him a job at Hogwarts. It was scandalous and shameful - a former death-eater working at Hogwarts?" Snape spoke the words with carefully calculated irony - he, too, was a product of Dumbledore's mercy. "Your father did not last long under the scorn and disappeared shortly afterwards. The circumstances of your birth are not known to us. He brought you back to us as a baby - left you on Dumbledore's doorstep, then went away to die. It was Professor Weasley who found his body-"

  


Tears were brimming in Lucinda's eyes. "The story has been told to me before," she whispered bitterly. "Why are you telling me again?"

  


"Dumbledore did not want you to forget your father," Professor Weasley responded gently. "He left you the yearbook from your father's seventh year. You'll find many pictures of him at a time when he was happy and almost innocent - pictures of him with your mum, too."

  


"He was also very concerned for your future," Snape interjected. "He did not want you to forget the terror that the death eaters wrought before you were born. He left you his personal memoirs of the war."

  


"It's a real honor," Professor Weasley added.

  


Lucinda nodded and took both items. "Thanks," she said awkwardly. "Um, I can find my own way back," she added. Her voice sounded brittle and far away. She left.

  


"Well, that went rather well," Severus sneered.   
  
  
  


Hermione read over the scroll for a third time before sending a reply.

  


_Hermione,  
It's been far too long since we were in touch. Harry and I loved your books. We are in town for the funeral, and understand you are visiting your daughters for the holiday. Would love to arrange a get-together. Can you meet us for lunch at Diagon Alley? It'll be like old times.  
love,  
Ginny Potter  
_   


Just two thoughts were running through her head and putting a damper on her excitement. The first was, "What if Ron is going to be there?". The second, and worse, was "What if Ron isn't going to be there?"

  


"Oh, well," she thought with a smile. "I'm going either way.

  


She hastily scribbled out a reply and sent it off.


	7. At Last

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, and really don't wish I did. I am forever in debt to Ms. Rowling for the creation of a world that has renewed my sense of wonder and my faith in children's literature. Suing me would be fruitless, because I spend all my money on Harry Potter cards. Thanks.   


**Chapter 6** : _At Last_

Beth and Ginny had helped her get ready. They were sure that Ron would be there. Hermione felt a twinge at that. What would they say when they found that famous Professor Weasley was their father? They would be pleased, perhaps, but how angry would they be at her for keeping it from them from so long?

  


Now she was on her own, perusing the shops of Diagon Alley. It was good to be back, and to see that all the shops she had loved in her childhood were still there. Ollivander was old beyond reckoning, but training his replacement. She chuckled inwardly as she passed the broomstick supplies shop - how her beloved friends had loved that place!

  


It was with deep reverence that she approached her favorite store of all, Flourish and Blotts. It seemed to be bigger than ever on the inside. She browsed the shelves looking for something of interest.

  


"Can I help ya find something, love?" An old woman in a tattered smock addressed her.

  


"Um," Hermione hesistated. "Have you ever heard of _heartspells_?"

  


"Ahhh..." the woman smiled. "I have just what you're looking for."

  


Two hours later, Hermione was sitting at a table outside of The Unicorn's Mane, flipping through a book called _Accio, Accio, a beginners guide to heartspells_. Ginny and Harry were late - a good twenty minutes late. That wasn't like them. They were both so sensitive to other people - _unlike some other people_, she thought haughtily - which had always made them highly responsible parents and friends.

  


"Can I bring you another drink, ma'am?" asked an eldery serving woman in turquoise dress robes.

  


"No, thank you," Hermione smiled warmly. "I'm still nursing my first, thanks."

  


The serving woman nodded and vanished.

  


Hermione continued to sip at her fizzy lemonade. So far, the book was just a history overview, talking about different methods of spell-casting used through the ages. The author obviously loved his subject, but tended to ramble on a bit. Hermione could relate.

  


Without warning, a figure on a broomstick clattered onto the cobblestone courtyard. The figure landed and dismounted, then started walking towards her. It was a wizard, definitely, but with the glare of the sun behind him, she couldn't make out who it was. Was it Harry... no, a toss of red hair... her stomach flip-flopped. It was Ron. She stood up in surprise.

  


"Ron?" she asked.

  


But he wasn't smiling. His face bore a look of concern - unnaturally so. It had been bad enough seeing him at Dumbledore's deathbed. The awkward goodbyes that had followed were almost unbearable, not to mention seeing him at the funeral, close enough to lock eyes on more than one occasion but never close enough to say a word.

  


He was out of breath. "Sorry, Hermione... Ginny had to be taken to the hospital. Some kind of complications with the pregnancy. She wanted you to come. Will you?" He gestured to the broomstick.

  


Hermione bit her lip. She hated flying, but hated worse the idea of looking like a coward in front of Ron. He levitated the broom and mounted it. She mounted behind him, willing herself to be a grown-up, to be mature, to not let the proximity of his body affect her.

  


"You're gonna have to come a little closer, or you're going to fall off," he said gruffly. Hermione was thankful he couldn't see the blush creep across her face and she pressed up against him, wrapping her arms around his middle.

  


It had been at least ten years since Hermione had ridden on a broomstick. She preferred almost any method of travel, even some muggle methods were better than flying. It was a good half-hour's flight to the hospital. They descended upon a modern, sterile-looking building.

  


"Griffon's Heart," Hermione said in surprise. "I've heard of it, but never actually seen it. "It's supposed to be the best there is - especially for newborns and expecting mothers... I take it Ginny's not doing well? How far along is she?"

  


"Twelve weeks. She was fine - but she started having some intense pain. Er, to be honest with you, Mia, they were afraid she might lose the baby. Harry sent me after you, so I really don't know if she's okay or not at this point."

  


Hermione oh'ed softly and looked concerned. "Sorry, Ron."

  


"Hey, not you're fault, love," he said with a crooked half-smile. Let's hurry in there, okay? I want to go see my little sister.

  


They hurried into the building and we met by a receptionist witch. Her face was expressionless and her grey hair was tied into a tight bun behind her face. She greeted them with a curt nod. "C'n I help you?"

  


"My little sister is Ginny Potter. She came in about an hour ago? She's having a baby," he explained awkwardly.

  


The receptionist rolled her eyes and consulted a little black book. "Potter? Eighth floor. Oh, Potter, eh? Any relation to, uh-"

  


"Yeah, she's Harry Potter's wife," Ron said tightly. "Can we go up and see her?"

  


The receptionist peered down her nose at him. "_You_ can. Family members only. She," nodding at Hermione, "has to wait here. No friends. No best friends. No mistresses, house elves, or girl friends. Family _only_." She huffed.

  


"But," Ron stammered. "This is... she's..."

  


"His wife," Hermione interrupted quickly. "It's okay, _darling_," she said giving him a significant glance, "the nice lady just misunderstood." She crooked her arm through his. "Shall we go?"

  


"Bloody brilliant, Mia!" he said as they hurried through the echoing hallway towards Ginny's room. "That was quick thinking." He was very conscious of her arm, still crooked through his. She seemed to realize it at the same moment, for she pulled it away, avoiding his eyes. They walked through the door very close together.

  


Even a wizard hospital is a very dark place. It stirs up memories in everyone. The antiseptic smell is almost unbearably morbid. Sickness and death linger, despite the clean silver surfaces and sparkling white tile.

  


For Ron, it drug up memories of the dark wars. 


	8. Yuletide Cheer

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
**Chapter 7**: _Vignette: Yuletide Cheer_   
  
  
  


_Yule Ball._

  


_Seventh Year. _

  


The great hall was strung with lights and the air was filled with warm, soft snowflakes that disappeared before they hit the ground. It was beautiful, made even more so by the bleak times that they were surrounded by. The evening was like a glowing candle in the the depths of a black night.

  


He was standing by the punch bowl, wallowing in self pity. Neville was standing with him. Hermione was dancing with Harry - some sort of spinny, formal dance that Ron probably would have made a fool of himself at, he thought bitterly. Harry was as good at dancing as he was at everything else, it seemed - and _everything_ came naturally to Hermione. _Except flying,_ he thought with an inward chuckle. 

  


"Last dance coming up," Neville commented glumly. "It's going to be a slow one. I-" suddenly he spotted Hannah Abbot, slumping over by the remains of a chocolate cake. "I'm going to ask Hannah to dance. She looks lonely."

  


"'Sfine," Ron said to Neville's retreating figure. "Not going to ask anyone, myself. Bloody ball, no one really enjoy's these things, anyway." He scowled. "Look at Parvati, trying to pretend she's having fun, dancing with Malfoy."

  


Off in the distance, he could see Harry and Hermione cheek to cheek. Laughing about something. Ron's stomach twisted. _Right, well what on earth is Ginny going to think of Harry flirting with her best friend? It just isn't right. It - Okay. Hermione was bowing to Harry, like the silly prat she was, and backing away. Ah, Harry was going over to ask Ginny to dance. Well and good. Let the lovebirds dance. As for Ron Weasley, I don't-_

  


_Oh, bloody hell_, he thought. Hermione was coming over to the punch bowl. Ron straightened up so she couldn't criticize his posture. He tried to look nonchalant, tried to look as though he didn't care about the ball at all. He ladled himself a cup of punch, spilling half the contents onto his dress robes. "Damn fingers," he muttered.   


"What's that?" she asked. He glanced up suddenly as though he hadn't seen her coming. She was so beautiful. She had used that grease, or whatever it was, on her hair and tied it back in a little bun, low on the back of her neck. Her dress hung loosely around her shoulders, making her look like a queen - or what Ron imagined a queen would look like. Stately, he thought, proud of his choice of words.

  


"Er... stupid things, really, these balls. Don't think anyone really enjoys themselves, do you?" he stumbled.

  


She smiled a bit and shrugged. "It's more fun if you try. You could, you know, ask someone to dance."

  


"A bit late, now, really," he said awkwardly. "Neville told me it was the last dance. Everybody's already dancing."

  


Hermione snorted impatiently.

  


"Er, that is to say, everyone but you." He realized with a shock that she was trying to make this easy on him.

  


She turned away. "Last choice, as usual," she muttered. Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

  


"That is to say, er I mean... well, Neville's right... you _are_ a girl..." There was a hint of laughter in his voice.

  


She whirled around. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Ronald Weasley?" she demanded.

  


He smiled innocently. "Will you please dance with me, Mia?"

  


She paused, then nodded curtly.

It was a slow song, the sort that no one really dances to, but uses as an excuse to stand very close together and sway. He put his arms around her back to pull himself against her. He let out a ragged breath. He had fantasized of this particular moment for so long. Time stood still, as it always had in his dreams.

  


She rested her head against his shoulder. He was suprised - he had not expected such an affectionate gesture from her. "Er, Ron?" she asked softly.

  


"Hmmm?"

  


"You're stepping on my foot," she said gently.

  


His face colored and he pulled away slightly. "Sorry, Mia..."

  


She chuckled. "Since when do you call me Mia?" she asked as they swayed. She seemed to be as conscious of him as he was of her. Her voice vibrated lightly in his ear, causing it to tingle.

  


"Um," he stammered, "Just a nickname, I guess..."

  


"It's something more than that, I think, or you wouldn't be blushing," Hermione answered. There was a triumphant glint in her eye.   


"I'm not blushing," he said, blushing furiously. "It's just, I saw it in one of your muggle books.. something about languages of romance, or some rubbish like that... was just going to take a quick peek, but it was actually more interesting than I expected..."

  


"Languages of romance? I don't have anything about romance in _any_ of my books. You have me confused with Lavendar," she whispered. "I suppose she turned you down this year?" A loaded question.

  


Ron shook his head while in mid spin, narrowly missing Hermione's foot again, "Actually, no, didn't ask her this year."

  


"Ah... what a shame," Hermione murmured.

  


All this time, conflicting thoughts were running through Ron's head. _If she didn't want to dance with me, why did she say yes?_ he mused. But glancing down at her pretty face just inches away from his, he was filled with a squirmy sort of bravado. She seemed to be enjoying this as much as him. She seemed deeply relaxed, almost tranquil, despite her defensive words. _I wonder what would happen if I kissed her right now, in front of everyone?_ It was like that impulse humans have as they stand on the edge of a cliff. I know I can't fall - but what would happen if I jumped?

  


He reached down, cupped her chin, and lifted her face to his. Very gently. Hermione had never seen Ron show such gentleness. He brushed his lips lightly against hers. She responded in kind, pressing her lips back against his for a second, before laying her head down on his shoulder. She nuzzled into the warm crevice between his chin and his neck. He shivered.

  


"Not mad at me anymore?" he asked softly.

  


"Not _too_ mad, anyway," she responded.

  


"Good."


	9. The Revelation

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
  


**Chapter 8**: _The Revelation_   
  


Hermione pulled a photo out of her wallet and showed it to Ron. It was, in fact, a clipping from Witches Weekly. A beautiful black and white shot of Ginny and Beth, at 12, when the book was published. Beth was waving wildly. Ginny had her arms wrapped around her sister's shoulder, and was smiling warmly out at them.   


Ron took it from her. He smiled hesitantly. "They're very pretty. What are their names?"   


In her bed, Ginny was fidgeting. "Harry, send for the nurse, please. It - it hurts, again."   


Harry frowned and called for a nurse. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "Could I ask you two to step out for a quarter of an hour? The charm the nurse has to use is a bit painful to watch... maybe you could grab a bite to eat and come right back?"   


"But my sister-" began Ron.   


"Sure thing, Harry," Hermione finished for him. "We'll be back in a bit. Shall we, Ron?"   


"Right," Ron murmured.   
  
  
  
  


_This is it. I have to tell him now. I can't wait until he meets them. I can't wait another minute. Maybe he'll hate me, but he deserves to know about them - and they deserve to know about him, and-_ Hermione's thoughts were leaking out as small tears in her eyes. She was panicking.   


"Well," she said. They were sitting in the hospital cafe across from each other at a rickety metal table. The air was thick with unasked and unanswered questions.   


"So," he answered.   


"Would you like to see some more pictures?"   


"Sure, he answered.   


Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out a small folder. "I brought a stack," she said casually, "to show Ginny and Harry. Um, I wasn't really expecting to see you."   


He took the folder from her. "Is that a bad thing?"   


"No. Not really. Um, do you want me to sit next to you, so I can narrate?"   


"Sure."   


They opened the folder and looked at the picture. It was a color shot this time - a current photo. Beth in her full red-headed glory, and her pretty, pirecing blue eyes, smiled out at them, and pointed out her pretty strapless muggle dress. Ginny was wearing overalls and a red turtleneck, helping Beth get ready for a date. She wasn't looking out, but was braiding Beth's hair.   


Ron stared. "One of them has red hair," he stated simply. He didn't flip the page. He seemed paralyzed.   


Hermione looked down at her toes and nodded.   


"Twins?"

  


A small nod.   


"How old are they?"   


"Twenty."   


"So they're ours." It was a statement, not a question.   


Hermioned nodded.   


"I have two daughters," he said.   


Hermione swallowed, then nodded again.   


"When can I meet them?"   


Hermioned looked up. "You're not angry?"   


"Furious." His face had not changed expression, nor was there any inflection in his voice. "So when can I meet them?"   


"Whenever you want," Hermione said hurriedly. "Today."   


"You should have told me," he said. This time there was a tremor in his voice. Hermione dared to meet his eyes now. They were moist, threatening to spill over. "This is - wow, Mia, you really should have told me. I have twenty-year-old daughters and I missed _everything_."   


"I'm sorry, I..." she trailed off helplessly.   


"Right," he nodded. "I want to know why. I want to know everything that has happened to you over the past twenty years, I want to know why you didn't tell me you were pregant, I want to know why the _hell_ you haven't contacted me." His voice was trembling and his nostrils were flared. He took a deep breath. "But first I want to meet my daughters." 


	10. Introductions

**Accio, Accio**

  
  


**Chapter 9:** _Introductions_   
  
_Baby, I've been here before,  
I know this room.  
I've walked this floor.  
I used to live alone, before I knew you.  
I've seen your flag on the marble arch.  
Oh, love is not a victory march,  
It's a cold, and very broken hallelujah.  
_ -Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah  
  
  
  


After making sure his sister was resting comfortably, Ron wanted to go and meet the girls right away. Hermione knew that they would be waiting for her to come home and given them the juicy details of the afternoon - they were really hoping she and Professor Weasley would 'hit it off'. She decided to simply bring Ron back to Oniceur and introduce them. _Easier said than done_, she mused.

  


They were outside preparing to leave. Hermione glanced nervously at Ron's broom. "Couldn't we just apparate?" she suggested.

  


"Don't have a license. Long story." He frowned. "I know. You know where you're going this time. Why don't you just apparate on ahead and let them know I'm coming."

  


Hermione nodded. "Right... thanks." She stepped away.

  


"Wait. Before you go. What are their names?"

  


"Beth and Ginny."

  


He smiled ever so slightly. "Ginny like my sister."

  


"Right, but it's Guinevere. And Beth is short for Elizabeth."

  


"And what should I expect?"

  


Hermione understood what he meant. "Beth is vivacious and outspoken - she's the one with the red hair. She has a tendency to draw attention to herself. Ginny is the quiet one, with my hair. She adores Beth - they adore each other, really. They're both very smart..."

  


Ron nodded. "Right. Meet you there?"

  


"You know how to get to Oniceur?"

  


He nodded again.

  


"All right. I'll meet you at the gates." She disapparated.

  


Ron stared at the air a few seconds after she left. He did not know what to think or feel, so he simply shook his head, mounted his broomstick, and flew off. "I'm a father," he murmured as he sped away.

  
  
  
  
  


"Where's Beth?"

  


Ginny looked up from her desk and smiled warmly at her mother. "Gadding about with some friends, I think, mum. How was the reunion?"

  


Impulsively, Hermione wrapped her arms around her daughter. "Awful, Gin. Can we find her? We've got to talk."

  


Ginny look concernedm but nodded. "Give me just a moment. She reached into her bottom desk drawer and pulled out a small pink pocket watch. She opened it and stared hard at the face for a second, then nodded decisively and dropped it back into the drawer.

  


Hermione gave her daughter a quizzical look. "What was that?"

  


"A twin thing," Ginny said dismissively. "Give her a minute, she'll be here."

  


Sure enough, two minutes later Beth was rushing into the dorm room breathlessly. "What's wrong, Ginny?"

  


Ginny shrugged. "Dunno, yet. Ask mum, she wants to talk to us about something."

  


The three sat down on the plush bear rug in the center of the room. "We've got to talk. This isn't going to be easy. I want you to know I wasn't trying to be selfish when I did what I did, I thought I was doing what was best for all of us, honestly..." she trailed off, looking at each of her daughters in turn.

  


Both daughters looked concerned now - _Concerned for me_, she realized, _how lucky I am to have them._ - Ginny held her hand. "What's up, mum?" asked Beth?

  


Hermione bit her lip and steeled herself. "Your father is coming to meet you."

  


"Our father?" Ginny asked softly. "Who is our father?"

  


"Ron Weasley."

  


"I knew it! We knew it, didn't we, Gin, when we found the picture and when we read your stories, and the funny way you looked when we said his name..."

  


Ginny spoke softly, "Why didn't you tell us?"

  


Her words went straight to Hermione's heart. "For... so many reasons, Gin." She had been rehearsing this speech for years. "In the beginning, I just didn't want anyone to find out that good little Hermione had accidentally gotten pregnant. I knew just what charms to use so that no one would ever find out unless I chose them to. The only thing I couldn't cover up was the nausea, so Ginny and Harry just thought I was sick for awhile.   


Also, Ron and I were going through a hard time, and I didn't really know if I wanted us to be together or not. I knew that if he knew we had kids, he would want us to be, you know, the traditional family. He would want me to stay at home and bake cookies while he went to a desk job at the ministry," she laughed softly, "to be honest, there have been times over the years when I really, really wished for nothing more than that."

  


"So you were... afraid he would hold you back?" Beth asked.

  


"Not hold me back - not career-wise, anyway. I guess I was just afraid that he would assume some honorable position and marry me, and stick by me forever just because of you, and I wasn't sure that I wanted that, to be honest with you.

  


"Then you were born. I fell in love with you both, from the very first moment. I didn't want to share you with anyone. My parents got to meet you, and some of my old teachers, but I was too ashamed to tell any of my friends. That would mean admitting that I had hidden an entire pregnancy from them. And Ron... well, I thought if I told him, he would want to take you away from me."

  


"You really thought that?" The voice came from the doorway and there he was. Ginny and Beth stood up.

  


"Hullo, nice to meet you, Dad," Beth quipped awkwardly.

  


"Er, nice to meet you, too, I-" But he was interrupted by a powerful hug from Ginny.

  


He grinned through the tears streaming down his face. His hands were shaking. "Wow, you must be Ginny," he said, examining her hair. "You look so much like your mum. You're beautiful." He gave Hermione a sideways glance. 

  


Ginny's blushed all the way to her ears. "You look so much like Beth," she answered. "Your hair is exactly the same.

  


"Pretty beautiful yourself," Beth said flirtatiously. She was standing off to the side, her arms indecisively crossed.

  


He stretched his arms out. "Give your dad a hug, won't you?"

  


She joined Ginny in hugging her father. Ginny's face was radiating warmth, Beth's was clouded with tears. Ron was completely incoherent for probably half an hour. In later years, he would relate how he felt: not as though he were being introduced to strangers, but truly as though he were meeting his own flesh and blood for the first time. He could see hints of both himself and Hermione in both of the girls. He felt as though he knew them already.

  


When he could once again form words into sentences, the first thing out of his mouth was, "I'm sorry." The girls looked at him as though surprised.

  


"For what, dad?" Beth asked.

  


"I'm sorry that I missed everything. I'm sorry that I wasn't here for you, to love you and tell you how beautiful you were," again he glanced thoughtfully toward Hermione, "I'm sorry that I wasn't able to look after you, or provide for you, or defend you from anyone that tried to hurt you," here he unconscionsly formed a fist, "or anything, I'm so sorry I didn't come and find you..." he finished softly and sighed. "I'm just so sorry... I hope you'll let me be in your lives from now on, however I can try to do that."

  


"Of course we will," said Ginny.

  


"And I want you to meet my family," Ron continued. "Ginny, 'Mia named you after my little sister. She's Harry Potter's wife."

  


Ginny oh'ed softly.

  


"And, Beth, you're the spitting image of a Weasley. Everyone in my family has red hair just like yours."

  


Beth laughed, "There are other Weasleys at Oniceur, all with red hair themselves. I had no idea I was related to them, how odd it is to know." She was still snuffling, but seemed more at ease.

  


"Wait until you meet my mum, she'll be so thrilled to know she has other grandchildren. She'll have to make you both Weasley sweaters. Maybe you can meet her tonight, would you girls like to come to the Burrow for dinner? Please say yes," he asked eagerly.

  


"Can we, Mum?" asked Ginny softly.

  


Hermione had her back to them, and was looking out the window at the broad view of the river below them. She sighed and turned around.


	11. The Greatest is Love

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
**Chapter 10**: _The Greatest is Love_   
  
  
  


Albus Dumbledore used to say that there were many, many types of magic - as many types of magic as there are people. He would then quote the thirteenth apprentice, who wrote in his letter to the wizards of Corinthia that there were three types of magic so great that they remained even to the muggles: faith, hope, and love.

  


The Burrow is enmeshed in such magic.

  


When you have had your fill of soap-operatic romance, drama, and high tragedy you'll want to head home to The Burrow. Those things have simply no place in The Burrow. There are fights, but they end before the sun goes down. There are misunderstandings, but they fade. There is a multitude of sins, but it is covered over by a deep, abiding love. 

  


At the head of the table sit Arthur and Molly Weasley. In their younger days, they sat at opposite ends of the table, trying between the two of them to bring order to the chaos brought on by seven children. The years have brought them closer together. They drink from one another's cups and finish each others sentences. After dinner, they hold hands under the table and listen to the wild tales told to them by whoever remains of their brood.

  


Tonight they are almost all here.

  


Bill and his muggle "life mate" (Molly shakes her head as she says the phrase) April are not here, but are somewhere in the African underground, unreachable by owl. Their daughter Morghana is present in their place. She is a tall, beautiful witch, sixteen years old. She resembles her muggle mother - her skin is a pale white, her hair is long, thin, and black. She lives with Arthur and Molly while she goes to school - she is the only Weasley who has ever been a Slytherin, but has won them over through her flirty ways, quick wit, and deep family loyalty.

  


Charlie and his sweet wife, Belinda, are here with their 7-year old son Tort. They flew in at last notice, on a dragon, no less. Tort is wandering around the kitchen, trying to ride on Gladiator, Ron's enormous dog. Charlie is engrossed in conversation with Percy on the restrictions for animal breeding imposed by the ministry.

  


Percy is here with Penelope and their twelve-year-old twins. The twins are a boy and a girl, aptly named after their parents. They are called "Pep" and "Penny" for short. They promise to be as troublesome as the original Weasley twins, Fred and George. They are Weasleys at first glance, red hair, sparkling eyes.

  


Fred and Angelina are here. They were unable to have children of their own but, much like Ginny and Harry, took in orphaned children of the dark war. Two girls, two boys. All are grown up and giving much pride to their adopted parents at various universities in both England and America.

  


George is here alone. He always finds a way to laugh about it, and make you laugh with him. Even his mother is fooled - usually. Many a woman has tried to win the heart of handsome George Weasley, only to find herself pushing against a brick wall. He is kind and seems to regard the entire female race with a kind of wonder. If Fred or Charlie were to think back, they might recall a certain girl with green eyes and straw-colored hair who fell under Voldemort's cruelty, and they might make the connection. But maybe they wouldn't - who can tell with boys, even the grown-up ones?

  


Ron is late, but this is nothing strange. He usually stumbles in late, either with an elaborate excuse or a pretty girl. Tonight he will have two of each.

  


The only other one missing is Ginny and her husband, beloved Harry. Both are there in spirit, and their places are set next to Ron's. Molly is fretting over Ginny's difficult pregnancy, but no one is taking it too seriously.

  


The Weasley's have made it through fights and misunderstandings and dark wars - there is some kind of powerful charm guarding their whole family. What could a little pregnancy ever do to them? If Voldemort's dark army can't even dent the little family, what could ever threaten to do so?

  


Nothing.

  


The greatest of all magic is love.


	12. Dinner with the Weasleys

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
**Author's notes:**  
To my reviewers: I am so flattered by everyone of you! You guys rock, you have made my first story-writing experience so enjoyable!  
**LoPotter**: Thank you, I really appreciate your reccomendation.  
Mary Potter: Sorry that I made you think my fic was over, perhaps I should not have gone so poetic right in the middle. I just thought I needed a break from melodramatic dialogue, lol. It's not even close to being over. I love Hermione and Ron very much, and this fic is primarily about them and their relationship - it just takes a long time to tell!  
**Nicole**: Thank you, poetic was sort of what I was going for, though I didn't have the word for it until you said it, lol! Would you believe I wrote that entire chapter as I was falling asleep? *grin*  
**Circinius**: Here I am, trying to get the next chapter up ASAP! :) I also think this is going to be extremely hard on Hermione... I'll be getting to that soon.  
**Cosmoz**: Hey, thanks, if the daughters remind you of the parents, I am getting some of the right idea across. I am reading the real books in between writing because it can be so hard to stay in character!  
Celtic Ember: It was less traumatic than I expected, too. I think that's because we really haven't gotten to Hermione's feelings yet.  
Princess: I never, ever get tired of hearing it, lol. Nobody picked out the quote, so I'll give it away. I quoted Madeleine L'Engle, who once said that if she had something to say that she knew adults would not readily accept, she would put it in a children's story. I don't remember the exact words. She is my hero!  
**Nikalee**: I love Dumbledore very, very much. He is my favorite wizard after T. H. White's Merlin. So I put my whole heart into writing his goodbyes.  
**Madison**: I think Mrs. Weasley will accept her grandchildren, but I don't think she'll be very easy on Hermione... I remember when she thought Hermione had broken Harry's heart. What will she do when she finds out she has broken her son's heart for real??  
**Tasha**: You are the second person to notice the lyrics from Escape. It is the song I most listen to while I am writing, because it reminds me of the whole theme behind my story and helps keep me in the right mindset.  
**The Spectre of Sanity**: I am glad you think none of the characters are OOC. I am working very hard to keep it that way, mostly because I love the characters exactly how Ms. Rowling wrote them.  
  
*takes a deep breath*   
Now on with the story!   
  
  
**Chapter 11**: _Dinner with the Weasleys_  
  
  


Molly glanced up at the family clock, her practiced eyes going straight to the "Ron" hand. Her eyes lit up. "Ron's here," she whispered to her husband. Arthur smiled and squeezed her hand.

  


Ron stepped into the room, flanked by Beth and Ginny. Fred and George exchanged glances and snickered. Ron had come in with girls before, many times, but never ones so young - and never two.

  


Molly smiled warmly at the girls. "Hello, Ron, you're late. Who are your friends? Are these students from Hogwarts?"

  


Morghana shook her head. "I don't recognize you from Hogwarts, I go there. You look a bit too old, am I right?"

  


"We go to Oniceur. We graduated from Salem in America," Beth offered. "My name's Beth, and this is my sister, Ginny."

  


"Mum," Ron looked from one parent to the other, "Dad," he paused. "these are my daughters."

  


There was a pregnant pause, and then the table erupted with noise, most of it happy. Molly sat with her mouth open, but Arthur stood up right away and hugged both of the girls. Morghana was laughing happily and hugging her new cousins. Percy was shaking their hands energetically and trying to find out what they were studying at Oniceur while George was offering them both part time jobs at the Hogsmeade branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

  


Things finally settled down. Ginny and Beth took Harry and Ginny's places at the enormous table. The dinner was wonderful - a traditional goose dinner with all the "trimmings". It was a little more traditional than Ginny and Beth were used to - Hermione, so well equipped for the rest of life, disdained cooking and fed her family primarily on microwave meals - but they enjoyed it, and politely finished second and third helpings.

  


After dinner, the guys all went out back to play bludger tag. The girls cleaned up the kitchen (Molly showed them a few sparkle charms that Hermione never bothered with) and congregated in the living room to chat.

  


"So did you have houses at Salem? Like Slytherin and Ravenclaw? I don't know much about wizarding in America," Morghana commented.

  


"Actually, no, we weren't a very big school. Everything was separated by witches and wizards, so Beth and I had every class together, but not very many opportunities for snogging," Beth laughed. Ginny turned pink. Morghana chuckled.

"That's the best way to do it!" Molly said stoutly. "I wish Dumbledore had thought of it."

  


"Oh, Dumbledore would never do that," Angelina said with a chuckle. "Competing girls against boys was one of the best ways we learned. Fred would never have passed his seventh year if he hadn't been trying to impress me."

  


"On the other hand, Percy would never have failed potions if he hadn't stayed up the night before the exam _studying_ with me," Penelope said with a saucy grin. All the girls laughed.

  


"What about our dad?" Beth asked curiously. "What was he like in school?"

  


"He had quite the temper," Angelina put in. "You should have seen how angry he was when Malfoy called Herm-" A black look from Molly cut the sentence off immediately.

  


"But he could be sweet, too," defended Penelope. "You should have seen how he was when Krum-" Penelope, too, stopped in midsentence.

  


An awkward silence descended over the group.

  


"Perhaps it would make things easier if we tell you who our mum is," Ginny said softly.

  


"You don't have to if you don't want to," Molly replied gently.

  


"But please do," said Angelina pleadingly. "We'll love you regardless, promise-" She smiled brightly, but another dark look from Molly cut her off.

  


"Our mum is Hermione Granger," said Ginny softly. "It seems you know her already, from school?" She addressed the question to Angelina.   


Angelina nodded slghtly. Molly stood up and left the room. Ginny bit her lip.

  


Penelope rose to the ocassion. "I knew your mother in school. She was the cleverest girl in her year. She was a prefect and Head Girl and scored more NEWTS and OWLS than anyone ever heard of."

  


"Ron loved her very much," Angelina put in. "You, um... what made him suddenly decide to introduce you to us?" she asked delicately.

  


"Mum only just introduced us to him today," Beth answered.

  


"Oh, wow," said Morghana. "That's just awful... er, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. This is so awkward," she spoke for everyone.

  


"Well, there's no need to be shy about it," Beth said suddenly. "Let's just get it all out on the table. Ginny and I didn't even know we had a dad until six hours ago. We want - need - to know everything. We're twenty. We'll be turning twenty-one in July. What were our mum and dad like before we were born?"

  


"Bullheaded," said Penelope.

  


"Both of them," agreed Angelina. "But somehow in completely different ways. Hermione always wanted to impress her superiors - and her friends. Ron was more interested in impressing Hermione and in having fun. Hermione never took a step without reading three books - Ron was all for barging his way through the world and learning as he went.

  


"But he was completely in love with your mother," Penelope said a little wistfully. "He went crazy when she was gone for any length of time and practically refused to leave without bringing her with him."

  


"Until Africa," Belinda lamented.

  


"Right," said Angelina. "They had a big fight, I think. Not sure what it was about, Fred doesn't know either. Ron took off for Africa - there was a retreat their for Charms specialists. Ron got into that. Never knew why-"

  


"Ooh, how we teased him," laughed Penelope. "Ickle Ronnie, heading off for charm school!"

  


"He dragged Ginny with him, but she came back a couple of months later to marry Harry. Ron didn't come back for years, and when he did, it was to accept a position at Hogwarts..." Angelina finished.   


No one noticed Ginny - Hermione's Ginny - slipping off. She had a talent for blending in, something her mother was never good at. Her heart was reaching out to Mrs. Weasley - the grandmother she had never known she had. She found her easily in the living room, knitting furiously. Her eyes were clouded with tears.

  


"Mrs. Weasley?" she whispered.

  


Molly looked up. She smiled through the haze of tears. "Ginny, right? You don't have to call me Mrs. Weasley. Call me Nana. All my grandchildren do."

  


"You're angry, Nana?"

  


"I'm sad..."

  


"Why are you sad?" Ginny asked.

  


Molly's fingers flew, dancing with the blue thread as she talked, "My son has a broken heart... has had a broken heart since he was young. You don't know what it's like, when you're a mother, and your children cry..." It was a long, sad story from a mother's point of view, but it poured out of Molly's heart and straight into Ginny's.


	13. Rain and Pizza

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
**Chapter 12**: Rain and Pizza__  
  
  
_Now I tell you openly,  
You have my heart so don't hurt me  
Totally amazing mind,  
So understanding and so kind.  
You're everything to me.  
-The Cranberries, Dream_   
  


_flashback_

  


They were walking around muggle London in the rain. Hermione was wearing jeans and a red and white striped shirt - Ron couldn't keep his eyes off of her, the way the muggle clothes showed off her body, the way her hair fell around her face, the way her eyes sparkled like dark diamonds in the rain. It was warm and even muggy, but the peltering rain kept things just right.

  


They were holding hands.

  


Ron felt as though he were flying.

  


Voldemort and his dark army had been annihilated a few short months ago, so the entire wizarding world was in a semi-constant state of jublilation. They had graduated Hogwarts just days ago, and had a summer of sheer fun ahead of them. Ron had a part time job helping Hagrid with next years candidates for Care of Magical Creatures class, and Hermione was doing some research for Snape, but for the most part it was purely a summer to enjoy.

  


Still hesistantly shy about their relationship, Ron and Hermione rarely took time for each other. It was almost as if they were afraid to speak of each other, for fear that what was growing between then would disappear. This weekend, however, Harry and Ginny were attending a seminar on Magic and Medicine (a topic Ginny was very interested in), and would be gone for three days. Ron and Hermione were left with each other and seventy-two blissful hours to be alone.

  


Yesterday they had said goodbye to Harry and Ginny, had dinner at the Burrow, and stayed up late talking about the past year - shyly avoiding discussion about their relationship. But they both woke up early today, thinking only of each other, had breakfast together, and set off for a day of exploring London.

  


Ron wanted to see everything there was in London, and his enthusiasm was infectious. By the time they made it out of Westminster Abbey, a small wax museum, and a large art gallery (Ron was as fascinated by the inanimate pictures as ever), it was pouring rain.

  


"But, really, I like the rain. It feels good on the skin, don't you think? It's not too good on books, though."

  


He looked down at her and smiled. "Books again! I like it because it cools me off and clears the streets. Now I don't have to share you with anyone."

  


Hermione laughed and squeezed his hand. "No one wants me but you, anyway," she answered. "No competition."

  


"Bloody hell, they don't!" He stepped closer to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "You're lucky I don't put a hex on every bloke that looks your way," he said affectionately. Hermione laughed.

  


They passed a flower vendor. His cart was lined with wilting roses and pots of daisies. "How much for one of these?" Ron asked, pointing to a watering can with little brass flowers, shaped like roses and daffodils. He fumbled through his billfold when the vendor named his price. "Er, Mia?"

  


Hermione picked out the correct change for him and handed it to the vendor. "Are you sure you don't want one of these," asked the vendor, pointing to a small bouquet of roses sitting off to the side. "Smell real nice for the missie."

  


A shadow passed over Ron's face. "I'd rather she have something that lasts forever than something that smells good," he said seriously. The vendor nodded.

  


Once they were out of sight, Ron pulled out his wand and pointed it at the little brass rose. He muttered something under his breath, then extended the flower to Hermione. "For you," he said, bowing graciously. Water trickled off of his face and onto hers.

  


She pushed him away. "G'roff me, you big duffer, you're getting water on me."

  


He pushed back, lightly, playfully, so that she was pushed against the brick wall of a nearby pizzeria. "You're already as wet as you can get, miss," he laughed. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. She shivered and wrapped her arms around him. 

  


He grinned. "Did you like that, missie?" he asked playfully, imitating the voice of the flower vendor.

  


She made a low growl in the back of her throat - almost a purr. "Do it again," she whispered.

  


He pushed his lips lingeringly against hers and she responded this time, her lips parting to his tender pressure. It was a gentle, exploratory kiss. He was holding back - he had to. If he let it all pour out, it would be like a tidal wave, it would overwhelm her, and he didn't want that.

  


"Hermione Elizabeth Granger, do you have any idea how much I love you?" he asked softly.

  


Her face was buried in his chest. "I'm beginning to get the idea," she whispered.

  


He stepped back and released her. He handed the little brass rose to her. "My lady."

  


She took it from his and smiled. "You're such a goof."

  


"Which is why you love me," he answered with a smile. She nodded shyly. "Smell it," he demanded.

  


She sniffed. "Oh, Ron, you made it smell like a real rose. Where on earth did you learn that charm? Can you teach it to me? I've never seen a charm that affected the smell of anything before..." Her eyes shone.

  


He smiled and shook his head. "Nope. Can't give away all my tricks, I'm afraid."

  


"You- you blast-ended skrewt!" she scolded. "You know I'll just look it up in the library later, if you don't."

  


He reached for her hand again. "I suppose you might think that's the only charm I know that you don't. But you would be wrong. There are a great many things that I know that you do not. While you were studying Advanced Muggle/Magic Relations, I was laboring away at Charms..."

  


She laughed, "Come, Prince Charming, let's have pizza."

  


"Pizza?" he asked. "What's pizza?"

  


"Maybe you should have taken Muggle Studies with me," Hermione said. "Come on, it's better than pumkpin pasties." She dragged him into the pizzeria.


	14. Two Trees

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
**Chapter 13**: Two Trees__  
  
  
Two trees rise up,  
Where we last stood,  
Where we last kissed  
When all was good.  
  
For when you left  
Two tears fell down.  
They left my eyes.  
They pierced the ground.  
  
They buried in  
The earth so deep.  
I bade them grow,  
My love to keep.  
  
Today those trees  
Grow strong and tall.  
My love has never  
Changed at all.  
  
  


Molly pulled the parchment out and showed it to Ginny. Ginny scanned it. "Wow, that's so sweet. Did my dad write this?"

  


Molly nodded. "He wrote it for your mother. I found it when I cleaned his room out a couple of years ago. It's not very good is it? But it made me cry. My little boy, in love with a girl that won't have it... it just isn't right. There have been so many girls that would have been just lovely for him. He loves kids, you know, and he always wanted a family..." her eyes closed.

  


"That's why you were so upset when you knew Hermione was our mum," Ginny said softly. "You knew he would have wanted us to be a family, but mum never told him about us, so he was alone."

  


Molly nodded. "I'm sorry, Ginny, I know I shouldn't be talking to you about this. She's your mother, after all. I'm not trying to turn you against her-"

  


At that moment, a troop of Weasley males burst in, smelling like the outdoors. Ron spotted Ginny. "Right, I'd better get you two back to your mother. She'll probably kill me for keeping you out this late."

  


Ginny kissed her grandmother on the cheek. "Can I come see you again, Nana?"

  


Molly nodded. "Please do, sweetie."

  
  
  


Hermione was alone, perched on one of the turrets of the tallest tower of Oniceur. She had a beautiful view of the river winding through a forest. The sky was dark and cloudy, a deep purple cloak studded with an few rare diamonds.

  


She was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, trying to sift through them before the girls came back. She was trying to remember everything she had learned from a book she read on conquering her emotions. _First name the emotion_, she remember, _then face it. Lean into it. Don't try to pretend it's not there._

  


"Guilt, more than anything else. Ron's right, as usual," she admitted grudgingly. "I stole twenty years from him. I'm a horrible person. Not a bad mother, really, but a horrible person."

  


Two large hands came down to rest on her shoulders. "I thought you hated heights."

  


"Not heights," she answered softly. "Just flying."

  


"Why flying?"

  


"I don't feel in control when I fly," she admitted.

  


"Or when you're in love," he said bitterly.

  


"Touche."

  


A dead silence. His hands were still on her shoulders. She did not turn around.

  


Finally, "We need to talk." It was Ron who broke the silence.

  


"Yeah, we do," she agreed.

  


"Can we go somewhere else? It's really cold. Beth and Ginny waited for you awhile, then went to bed. One of the university owls helped me track you down."

  


"Sure. Have anywhere in mind?" she asked a little dully.

  


He nodded. "I do, actually."

  


That meant another broomride. Hermione was a little less nervous than the last time - but not much. She really hadn't ridden a broomstick since their courtship, so it brought back a lot of memories - _good memories_, she had to admit. But she was still overwhelmed. _Guilt,_ she reminded herself. _What I'm feeling is guilt. I can handle this._

  


She couldn't - he brought her down by the little restaurant where they used to hang out after Hermione had gotten Ron hooked on pizza. He stowed the broom in what looked like a guitar case. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

  


She nodded. "Ravenous."

  


He ordered a slice of pizza for her, plain cheese, and a coke for himself. He counted out the muggle money on his own - that, at least, had changed, she noted. _Guess little Ronniekins has grown up_ she thought, a little bitterly. She had to admit she had liked it when Ron was dependent on her to count out muggle change and explain hard words and copy her homework.

  


"Before we get to the angry, ugly stuff, I want to hear how you are. Basically, I'd like a general overview of your well-being for the past twenty years, leaving out everything about the girls or other guys. For now."

  


Hermione stared at him.

  


He smiled - just a little.

  


"Um, I've been okay. I'm pretty much the same as ever. I still haunt libraries. I guess you know about the books I wrote."

  


He nodded. "I read them, they were brilliant. You made us so easy for the muggles to understand. I didn't read any magazine articles or anything, though, like Ginny. I would have if I had thought of it. I guess I should have." He shrugged. "Keep going."   


She had a hard time describing her life without mentioning the girls. "Um, I helped out at Salem's school in America in return for, well, tuition reducation. I liked it a lot. You teach now, right?"

  


He nodded. "Charms. Hogwarts. Are you surprised?"

  


"No," she lied haughtily. "The girls tell me you're reputed to be quite good."

  


He nodded. "I can see we're not going to be able to have this conversation without mentioning the girls. They're great, by the way. Ginny was hanging out with my mom when we left."

  


Hermione frowned. "Your mum must really hate me now."

  


Ron shrugged. "I didn't tell her who their mother was. But they did, while they were chatting. I don't really know how she took it, but I imagine it'll take her some time to get used to the idea. Not as much time as it's going to take me, but that's neither here nor there. Have you been happy?"

  


"Well, that was sort of out of the blue," Hermione said in surprise.

  


"Out of the blue for you, maybe. I've been wondering the answer to that question for twenty years." There was a trace of sadness in his voice that got under Hermione's skin.

  


"Fine. No. I've been lonely, I've been regretful, and I feel _guilty_." She spat the word. "Is that what you want to hear?"

  


"Good, you should feel guilty." There was a deeper hurt in his eyes, now. He sighed. "I'll take you home. We can talk more later." His eyes were red.

  


Hermione stammered. "You know - you know you can cry in front of me, you know. I'm not going to think less of you for a few tears. I'm not that kind of girl, you'd think you'd know that by now. Just because I completely botched your entire life, doesn't mean..." Now she, too, was crying. "...doesn't mean I don't still..."

  



	15. Releasing the Tidal Wave

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
  
  
**Chapter 14**: _Releasing the Tidal Wave_   
  
_Juliet, when we made love, you used to cry,  
You said 'I'll love you like the stars above,  
I'll love you till I die.'  
-Dire Straits, Romeo and Juliet  
  
flashback, the first fall after Ron and Hermione graduate from Hogwarts_

This image of the tidal wave stuck with Ron Weasley. He sincerely felt that if he unleashed his emotions with Hermione they would overwhelm her, and carry her away from him. There were kisses that weakened the knees, hugs that never seemed to end, and sometimes Hermione would crawl into his lap, let him wrap his arms around her, and they would talk until morning. That was the extent of their physical relationship. This funny little notion restrained him, kept him a gentleman - though Hermione would have laughed if she ever heard him called that.

  


It was, in a way, a clash between the muggle and magic worlds. Hermione was very uncomfortable with the fact that Ron wasn't trying to seduce her - wasn't that was boys were supposed to do when they were attracted to you? Was it her bushy brown hair, or her plain face, or something about her body that was pushing him away? Perhaps it was her hips, they were too large for the rest of her, and she hadn't ever filled out on top to her own satisfaction. Maybe he just wasn't that interested in her body. It never occured to her that Ron might be just as scared as she was.

  


One evening, Hermione opened the floodgates all on her own.

  


There was a dusky sunset blanketing the quidditch field. Hermione was sitting cross-legged on the sidelines. Harry had just put the stops on a practice game - Hogsmeade Headhunters (Hermione blanched everytime she had to say the name) versus the Van Ness Vampires. _They're a great team,_ she reflected. _I think they trust each other more because they've been through the darkness together._

  


Ron was a beater, and a good one, too. His friendship with Harry was a real motivator. All he had to do was allow his protective instincts to take over and they would point him right towards the bludgers. If he channeled his agression just right, the bludger would be knocked far away from its target before it ever got close to reaching it. Ron had once actually knocked a bludger out of commission, something virtually unheard of for the game. Interestingly enough, that particular bludger had been heading towards his little sister Ginny, who had been filling in as keeper at the time.

  


The team was landing in the field now. Hermione was looking as un-eager as possible, her nose buried deep in "Achieving the Impossible: Historic Attempts to Reunify Muggles and Wizard". She could see an exultant redhead in her peripheral vision. She could see him approaching her. At the last second she looked up and smiled coyly. "Oh, hello!" she said brightly.

  


"Hullo, pretty Mia," he said in a low tone. "We're going to The Leaky Cauldron to celebrate. Wanna be my guest of honor?" He held out his hand to her."

  


She smiled brightly. "Be happy to," she replied.

  


The evening passed quickly, with full rounds of butterbeer for everyone, and plenty of laughter all around. The boys were all toasting each other and singing like banshees.

  


"To Harry Potter!" cried Fred Weasley. "Best dam' seeker in the game!"

  


"We're going to take the whole division this year, I'm sure of it," Neville said happily. 

  


"Here's to Fred and Ron, without whom I would be very much _smashed_!" cried Harry happily, spilling a little of his double-bubble butter beer as he raised his mug. "Er, by bludgers, I mean..."

  


"Sure you're not a little smashed, already, brother?" Ron whispered, taking his mug from him and taking a gulp of the warm liquid.

  


Ginny knocked her brother hard on the arm. "Leave Harry alone, it's just butter beer. He's happy, and he has a right to be."

  


Harry grinned and put an arm around Ginny's shoulder. She blushed slightly and smile warmly up at him. The entire team, plus friends, supporters, and significant others were crowded around a table right in the middle of the tavern, but those two didn't seem to care.

  


Neither did Ron.

  


In between sips of his drink, and scarfing down plates of food, he was smiling warmly at Hermione and squeezing her hand. He seemed very glad to be next to her - glad enough to gently erase all of her insecure worries. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Thanks for coming here, Mia, I know you aren't that big on parties, but..."

  


Hermione swallowed resolutely. She reached her hand over and gently squeezed Ron's thigh. "Anything for you, love..."

  


Ron's eyes widened in surprise. He covered her hand with his own and slid a little closer to her. He rested his head against hers. Hermione leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Kinda crowded here, don't you think?" she whispered. She squeezed lightly again.

  


"Er, yeah a bit," he answered softly, blushing furiously.

  


She smiled meaningfully at him.

  


"Er..." he stammered. "Wanna go somewhere else?"

  


She nodded slightly. "Take me home, Ron," she whispered.

  


He paid for their dinner and drinks, fingers fumbling as he counted out the change, and whisked her away.

  
  
  
**Author's note**: Okay, first of all, sorry about such a short chapter. There's more to the story here, of course, but it surpasses the rating *wink*. So I'll leave it to your collective imagination. The basic idea here is that Hermione expresses her emotions much better through touch than words. This is going to be something of a dividing factor. Not tonight, though *winkwink*  
  
Now here's where I need some advice from you guys. It doesn't change the basic storyline, but I want to know if you guys think Hermione and Ron's confrontation in the present (about the girls) should become mushy or hostile? It's not going to affect the overall storyline, but I would like to know what you guys would prefer and/or which you think would be more realistic. My debate is this: they've been in love with each other for over twenty years - Ron outright, Hermione in a more hidden way, but with equal intensity. Hermione has some reason that she left Ron to begin with, and Ron has some very valid reasons to be angry. But for tonight, which emotion should prevail?  
  
You guys are the best.  
Katharin the Dragon 


	16. That Same Night

**Accio, Accio**

  
  
**Chapter 15**: _That Same Night_  
  
  


"Doesn't mean you don't still what?" he challenged.

  


"Nothing. Nevermind."

  


"Fine." He said it forcefully, like a petulant child.

  


A chilly silence.

  


"I don't want to fight-" began Hermione.

  


Ron interrupted her. "Why did you leave me?" he demanded? "I really thought I was a pretty damn good boyfriend. Actually, I thought you loved me. You said you did. Why did you-"

  


Her voice took a business-like tone. "Do you want the list?" she asked haughtily.

  


Ron scowled. "There's a bloody list?"

  


Hermione nodded. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a scroll. She cleared her throat.

  


Ron stared. "You made a list of reasons why you left me? You cold-hearted b-"

  


"Language, please, Ron. You didn't think I'd have the courage to leave you without having a foundation of reason, did you?"

  


"Oh, I get it. It's something you read in a book."

  


She threw him a withering glance. "Do you want to hear it or not?"

  


He nodded sulkily.

  


"I'd like you to bear in mind that I wrote this list right before we, er, broke up, I guess.

  


"First, no ambition. You didn't know what you wanted to do with your life, seemed to be heading nowhere." She looked him over. "Obviously I was wrong about that."

  


"_Obviously._"

  


"Second, you were way too possessive."

  


"What does that mean?"

  


"Possessive? It means that you treated me like you own-"

  


"Not the word, Hermione," he sighed. "I know what the word means. What did I do that was too possessive?"

  


She counted the reasons out on her fingers. "You kept track of me like a child. You were extremely paranoid about my relationship with Viktor - really, with any male besides Harry. You flat out kept me from going to Paris - you almost cancelled your trip to Africa because I could not go with you."

  


He listened passively.

  


She glanced at him over her parchment. She saw the expression on his face and faltered. "Um... okay, third reason. You have this whole reconceived image of what a girl is supposed to be. You wanted me to be Molly Weasley the second."

  


He broke in. "That is completely unfair. I know you're not my mom, hell, that's part of why I loved you so much. You're acting like I wanted to change you and I didn't." He sighed. "Anything else?"

  


"Like hell you didn't," she interjected. "Like _hell_ you didn't. What was that whole, 'here, Mia, here's a great book on raising kids the wizard way' 'here, Mia, I got you a broomstick - no, not the flying kind, the muggle kind' 'hey, Mia, when i'm the minister of magic, you won't have to work anywhere!' What the hell do you call that?"

  


Ron's jaw dropped. "I've never heard you swear before."

  


"See? There you go again, putting me on some stereotypical female pedestal!"

  


"Bullshit! You're twisting everything I've ever said about you! This is so unfair! I'm the one who should be angry here! You had my kids and you didn't even tell me about it! They're grown-ups now! I have grown-up bloody children and you didn't even-"

  


"Ron," she whispered.

  


"Huh?"

  


"Everyone's staring at us. Can we go somewhere else?"

  


He paused. "Yeah. My flat."

  


"Is it close by?"

  


He barely held back a chuckle. "Yeah, you could say that. Follow me."

  


He led her to a flight of stairs in the back of the dimly lit shop. "Up," he commanded her.

  


She gave him a quizzical look.

  


He nodded.

  


She frowned and climbed up the stairs. There stood a door, with peeling green paint and a tarnished brass doorknob. She turned the knob and stepped into a dark room. She felt along the wall and found a switch. She flicked it.

  


She was standing in the kitchenette of a small flat, sparsely furnished, the linoleum floors piled high with books and trinkets. There was a rickety card table to one side, and a beautiful mirror hanging above it. "You... live here?" she asked in surprise.

  


Ron shrugged and lit a couple of candles for light. "Be it ever so humble. Why so surprised?" He flicked off the electric light.

  


"Wasn't expecting you to live in muggle London, especially not above our - er, the pizza shop."

  


"What can I say, I've got quite a fondness for pizza. I don't live here all the time, anyway, just on holidays. Doesn't cost me much to pay for it all year long. Kinda attached to it," he admitted.

  


"Ah."

  


He gestured to the card table. "Have a seat."

  


"Right." she nodded and sat down. "Where were you? Something about the girls and me being a bitch, I think."

  


"I didn't call you a bitch." he growled.

  


"Bloody well should have."

  


Ron sighed. "You ruined the mood. I don't feel like yelling at you anymore," he admitted sulkily.

  


"What's with the candles?" she asked.

  


"I _like_ candles."

  


"_Fine._"

  


They sat a few moments longer in silence, watching the magical shapes of the flickering flame against the dingy walls.

  


"You know..." he whispered.

  


"Hmmm?"

  


"I missed you so bloody much. After awhile it didn't matter so much if you would love me, as long as I could see you again sometime... it was like... like I had all the colors for so long, and all the sudden I didn't have the color blue anymore. Suddenly, the whole world was without blue. Had yellow and red and orange, and even some muddy browns and every grey, but I really just wanted blue back, so I could see right again." He blushed scarlet. "That must sound so stupid..."

  


Hermione studied the diamond pattern of the linoleum floor. "I have another list, if you want to hear it..."

  


He shrugged. "Sure, tear into me," he said listlessly.

  


Hermione pulled out a longer parchment from her handbag. She cleared her throat again.

  


Ron laid his head down on the table.

  


"Reasons Why I Made the Biggest Mistake of My Life Leaving Ronald Arthur Weasley," she began. "I miss being bugged all the time about where I'm going to be and if I'm going to get there safely. I miss being told three to four times a day how incredibly beautiful he thinks I am. I miss the way he smells. I miss the way he kisses me. I miss his thick red hair and his bedroom eyes.

  


"He would have been the best dad in the world. I needed him when I was sick. I needed him when I was alone in the house with the girls for the first time and they both started to cry at the same time. I needed him when I got lost in Paris all by myself and I had to get home to the babysitter before three pm. I needed him when I was broke in a stupid little flat in America and didn't have any money or any more of a job than being a cashier at the local Wal*Mart.

  


"I needed him when I suddenly realised that I was old and alone. I need him now that I'm bawling my eyes out about a headmaster who I haven't seen in twelve years yet somehow seemed to be the only stable thing left in a world that is completely falling apart.

  


She put the parchment down. "I need him right now, when I suddenly realise that by lying to him and cutting him off from myself, I cut off the only retreat, the only haven I ever found." Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Ron."


	17. I want you

**Accio, Accio**

  
**Chapter 16:** _I want you._  
  
  


_"I cut off the only retreat, the only haven I ever found." Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Ron."_   


Ron's head was pounding, and he was confused, to say the least. He had not expected her to burst into tears. If any had told him a week ago that Hermione would be sitting across from him in his old metal folding chair, looking tiny and vulnerable, Hermione who took so much pride in her own strength, he would have laughed them off. But there she was.   


"Mia?" he asked, finally looking up.   


"What?" she whispered.   


"Do you love me..?"   


"I- I do, Ron. I always have. I just... got scared, I guess..."   


"That night... the night before you left, that hurt so bad, Mia... I was angry, and embarassed, and hurt, and I actually cried myself to sleep," he admitted.   


"I know... I'm sorry-"   


"-but," he interrupted. "I forgave you for that. It was my fault, too, I shouldn't have rushed you. I shouldn't have assumed that you were as ready as I was. The truth is, I did want to keep you. I wanted to keep anyone else from having a chance at you. I should have trusted you more."   


"It's-"   


He ignored her and continued. "The only thing I never forgave you for was leaving me alone."   


"Please forgive me for leaving you," she said softly.   


He reached across the table for her hand. "I will forgive you if you forgive me."   


"You're making it a little easier than I expected you to," she said.   


"We're forty years old, Mia. We lost two decades. I'm not in favor of losing another minute, for any reason. Um, unless there's anything else that I don't know about you. You're not married or something are you?"   


Hermione squeezed his hand. "Definitely not. To be honest, I haven't had a date in twenty years," she admitted.   


Ron leaned across the table and kissed her. With a small sigh, she leaned closer, pressing her lips back against his. The kiss escalated quickly, as she parted his lips with hers, probing softly. He pulled away suddenly and leaned his forehead against hers.   


"...haven't had one of those in awhile, either," she murmured.   


He reached his hand out and lightly stroked the side of her face. "Me neither..."   


"What's wrong?" she asked softly.   


"I feel like a kid again," he admitted.   


"What, nervous...?" she asked with a small smile.   


He nodded. "Very."   


She moved her cheek against his in an affectionate gesture that tingled his nerve endings. He closed his eyes. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to, Ron," she whispered. She nuzzled him. "We can just... talk..."   


He stood up and closed the distance between them. He held his hand out to her. She took his hand and stood up beside him. He kissed the tears off of each of her cheeks, one after the other, then brushed the straying hairs away from her face. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body tight against his. He held her like that, swaying a little, neither of them saying a word for a few long minutes. Then he leaned down and kissed her again. Deeper, this time, and more meaningfully. Her face was flushed when he was finished, and her lips were pulsing.   


"Just talk?" he asked softly. His breath was ragged.   


"If... if that's what you want," she said softly.   


"But is it what you want...?" he queried. He kissed her again, lightly. "Tell the truth, now, Mia..."   


She chuckled softly, recognizing an old game. Ron always had to have the upper hand. "You're teasing me, Ron Weasley..."   


"Mm-hmmm," he murmured, nuzzling her hair. "Come on, admit it, Hermione..."   


"Admit what..?" she protested weakly. He nuzzled her ear. "Oh, all right," she surrendered.   


"I want you." 


	18. Christmas

**Accio, Accio**

**Chapter 17:** _Christmas_   
  


"Happy Christmas, Mia," he whispered.

  


It took her half a minute to remember where she was, and another to convince herself that she was not dreaming. She sat up and the bed creaked. She looked to her right. There he was, wearing bright blue dress robes that brought out the sparkle in his eyes and contrasted brilliantly with his hair. She rubbed her eyes.

  


"Happy Christmas!" she responded cheerily. Then she frowned, startled. "Christmas! The girls! I forgot!"

  


Ron laughed. "The girls are already having breakfast at Hogwarts. They're waiting for - well, for you to wake up." He grinned mischievously. "They're not impatient, though, they understand you had a pretty rough night."

  


Hermione's eyes widened. "What on earth did you tell them, Ronald Weasley?"

  


"Nothing, nothing. Get up, sleepyhead. He pointed to a dark red set of dressrobes. "Everyone's waiting for you. It's Christmas, Mia!"

  


His enthusiasm was infectious. She dressed quickly, stopping only once a minute (maybe twice a minute) to glance over at Ron and smile warmly. He, too, was glancing over, trying to be subtle, watching her.

  


"Ready," she announced finally.

  


He grabbed his guitar-shaped broomstick case from the corner of the kitchen. They stumbled down the steps into the pizzeria and slipped out the front door. There was a fresh snow falling, blanketing the world in an innocent beauty.

  


Ron cast a _reducio_ on the case, levitated the boomstick, and hopped on. He looked over at Hermione and smiled. "We're going to try something different this morning," he announced cheerily.

  


Hermione raised her eyebrow at him. "What?"

  


He patted the space in front of him. "Hop on, Mia."

  


"What?"

  


"You ride in front. I'll steer it. You - you just get the better view." He laughed at her pained expression. "_Trust me_. I won't let you fall."

  


Hermione's assent was a groan of exasperation which only made Ron grin wider. She mounted in silent protest and they took off.

  


It was exhilerating. The winter scenery flew by at breathtaking speed. Ron's arms were wrapped firmly around her from behind, so she felt safe - reasonably so, at least.

  


It was a long flight, but they finally crash-landed at Hogwarts in the crisp, newly-fallen snow. Hermione fell completely off of Ron's broom as they hit the ground. She laughed uproariously and struggled to roll over.

  


"All righ' there Hermione?" boomed a voice from the gate.

  


"Hagrid!" Hermione was overwhelmed with joy at seeing the old half-giant who had watched over her for so much of her childhood. She bound over to him and wrapped her arms around him - or tried to do so. He hugged her back.

  


"It's so good to see ya..." he dropped his voice to what he considered a whisper. "Good t'see ya with Ron, especially, if ya know what I mean," he finished.

  


Ron, pretending to be busy putting his broomstick back in its case, turned quite pink. Hermione grinned up at Hagrid.

  


"I didn't see you at the funeral, Hagrid. Were you there?" she asked, changing the subject.

  


"Ah, now don' be too mad at me about that, girl. I wasn't there. Every man has to come to grips with Death in his own way, ya know, an' my way has nothing to do with a room full of whinin' people that barely knew the man." He snuffled and wiped a tear on his sleeve. "I did my share of cryin', though. Great man, Albus Dumbledore. There's precious few that'll miss the man more'n me."

  


Hagrid led the two into the great hall. There was a huge Christmas tree up by the empty staff table, and of course, a soft, warm snow falling down on everyone from the expansive grey ceiling above. When Hermione realized how many people were in the hall, she choked.

  


Ron glanced over and squeezed her hand knowingly. "Relax," he whispered. Hermione nodded.

  


Beth and Ginny were sitting at the Gryffindor table - everyone, it seemed, was sitting at the Gryffindor table, even the staff. Sirius Black waved them over. 

  


Ron ushered Hermione over to two empty seats open by the girls. "Good morning, mum," Beth said brightly. "Have a good sleep?" She grinned wickedly. Hermione blushed.

  


"Merry Christmas, mum," Ginny added, smiling just as brightly. "We saved our presents to open with you."

  


"We've got presents for you, too," Ron put in.

  


"We?" asked Hermione. "How long have you crafty people been awake?"

  


"Hours," Beth answered. "Eat! We're impatient!"

  


"Happy Christmas, Hermione," Ginny Potter called from across the table. "You're a bit late, but my dear brother told us you were sleeping in. We've all eaten but we don't mind waiting a bit for you to eat, right, Harry?"

  


Harry grinned and wrapped an arm protectively around his wife. "Yeah, it's all right, Hermione. We saved a good bit of feast for you, and a great deal more presents. No hurry, though."

  


Hermione laughed, "Oh, hush all of you! Let me get some food in me, and then we can open the ruddy presents."

  


Everyone laughed and filled Hermione in on Ginny's hospital visit - she was fine, the baby was fine, everything was fine - on the girls meeting Mrs. Weasley - "She's not so bad, really, mum," - and on the exploits of the Weasley and Potter families over the past twenty years.

  


"You eat too slow, Mia," Ron teased.

  


"Where are all these legendary presents, anyway?"

  


"Er," Ron made a face, coughed, and muttered something.

  


"What?"

  


He cleared his throat. "The Burrow. My mum invited us all."

  


Hermione dropped her knife. "Your mum."

  


Ron nodded.

  


"Invited _me_ for Christmas?"

  


Ron muttered something again.

  


"Scuse me?"

  


Ron sighed. "Well, she invited the girls, and we're sort of planning to surprise her by bringing you," he said, all in a rush. "But your presents are already there, so you might as well just give in now."

  


Ginny rested her hand on her mother's arm. "It's okay, mum. I've been talking to her all morning, and last night, too. I've been warming her up to the idea of seeing you again.

  


"And we won't let you take no for an answer," added Ginny Potter.   


Hermione sighed. "Fine. Can't avoid her forever, I guess..."

  


"That's the spirit, m'love," said Ron, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

  


The table table dissolved again into cheerful chatter as everyone found one or two more things that they had to sample before delving into the gift-giving tradition. Ron seemed more interested in watching Hermione eat than anything else. He had his arm wrapped around her waist and was looking over at her now and then.

  


"Question for you," Hermione said softly to him udnerneath all the chatter.

  


Ron nodded. "Anything."

  


"After all these years, you never did tell me why you call me Mia."

  


He grinned awkwardly. "Well, you know, short form of Herm-eye-o-nee. _Mia_."

  


"And?" she prompted.

  


"And what?" he grinned.

  


"You always hinted that there was something more to it, than that."

  


"Oh, all right..." He seemed embarassed. "It's Italian for _mine_. I saw it in one of your muggle books-"

  


Hermione laughed out loud. "Romance languages! _Language of Romance_, indeed.. Now I get it..." She blushed. "Oh. _Mine_." She suddenly understood the implication. "That's sweet..."

  


He smiled and kissed the top of her head. "Finished yet, Mia?"

  


They were interrupted by the entrance of two staff members - a beautiful blonde and a greasy-haired git. "Happy Christmas, Ron," drawled Polly Pomfrey.

  


"And Miss Granger, good to see a former student," added Severus Snape.

  


Hermione stood up. "Professor Snape! Happy Christmas! How good to see you! You still teach potions?"

  


He smiled slightly. "Not as much as I used to. I'm deputy headmaster right now, and I've been acting on Dumbledore's behalf for quite some time." He winced slightly. "I teach a few advanced potions classes, and Defense Against the Dark Arts for the seventh years - even the advanced students are as dim-witted as ever, I'm afraid." Hermione thought she saw a sparkle in those coal-black eyes.

  


"You're an old student?" Polly asked sweetly. Hermione scowled at her choice of words.

  


Ron stepped in. "Polly, I'd like to introduce Hermione Granger. Mia and I graduated together. Perhaps you've heard of her? She wrote-"

  


"Harry Potter and the School for Magic!" Polly exclaimed. "What an honor to meet you. It's a _classic_, really, some of the younger students still read it. Bet they'd love to get autographs, perhaps you could arrange-"

  


"Also one of the brightest students Hogwarts has ever seen," Snape interjected. "She and Professor Weasley were chums with Harry Potter, and the three of them were instrumental in the defeat of the dark lord."

  


"Wow," said Polly. She rested a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Ron never told me about you. I'd love to hear the whole story, sometime-"

  


"Mum, we're ready to go, are you?" Beth came up behind her mother and hugged her. She spotted Polly and scowled - her expression mimicking Hermione's uncannily.

  


Ron tactfully pulled away from Polly's hands. "Polly, have you met my daughter Beth, yet? Beth, bring Ginny over, too," he said pointedly.

  


"Oh..." her voice fell flat. "No, I haven't. What a pleasure."

  


"Likewise," said Beth coolly.

  


"Anyway," she said, backing away, "I'm going to go look after Hagrid, he's getting settled back in. Nice meeting you. Happy Christmas, all."

  


Hermione gave Ron a frosty look. "Who was that?" she asked.

  


"Madame Pomfrey's daughter. Still looks after the hospital wing." He frowned at the chilly look on Hermione's face. "Nothing between us, Mia, I prom-"

  


"I can vouch for that, Miss Granger," Snape growled. "Professor Weasley here has done nothing but mope after you since you left. Your coming back may just be the best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts since-"

  


"Since your coming to Hogwarts in the very beginning," Ron finished fondly.

  


Hermione could not remember ever seeing Severus Snape laugh out loud before.


End file.
